We Shouldn't
by LeaveIt
Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you’ve read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;D I’ve been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy. Rating will change for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**We Shouldn't**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: I know these are old episodes but having just re-watched Season 1 on DVD this came to me and I needed to write at least some of this before my muse would let me get back to my Good Intentions sequel. Besides, I like Bobby back in the early episodes, when he shows more humour.

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****Post-Ep: Jones - Early Morning following the Talbot Interrogation **

**Alex's POV**

I shouldn't be laying here awake. We did good today, we arrested a four-time murderer. I showered and changed as soon as I'd finished speaking with Goren in the Interrogation Room after Talbot smashed the mirror. After we'd completed the necessary paperwork, which Goren did most of for the first time in our partnership, we headed for a couple of drinks, then I drove him to his apartment and headed home.

I showered again when I got home. I can't get rid of the sensation of that slime-ball's eyes on me. I must have washed my hands a couple of dozen times, trying to get rid of the feeling of his finger running along my own. Even as I washed my hands again, getting ready for bed, I found myself smiling though. It's weird, I should be disgusted with how we got the guy, but the way we played him, even if I did have to play bait like my days in Vice, I'm actually really proud of myself and my partner. We knew the guy's weak spot and we showed his wife what he truly was.

I was uncomfortable joining Carver and Deakins in Observation, standing there next to Denise Talbot, while my partner tore her husband's bravado to pieces. I knew she'd been listening while Talbot hit on me, suggesting we meet for a drink and chat 'once all this was over'. Well it won't be over for him for quite some time now, if Carver did his job properly not until Talbot dies in prison. For Denise it would never truly be over, I suppose, she would have to live the rest of her life knowing the father of her children was a murdering adulterer who had wanted her only for her money. Yet watching Bobby as he shredded Talbot, playing on the man's insecurities, I couldn't help feeling an immense amount of pride in this man I had known for only a few months. This man who I had come to understand so well on a professional level after such a short time, who I had come to respect immensely, especially given the rocky start to our partnership.

What I definitely shouldn't have been feeling at the same time was an immense attraction, a tightening in my stomach as my partner made insinuations regarding his own sexual potency in comparison to that of our suspect. No, I certainly shouldn't have found myself wanting nothing more than to find a nice quiet, empty office somewhere in the building, where we wouldn't be disturbed and where Bobby Goren could, no doubt at all, remove from my mind all memory of Talbot's touch on my skin by replacing it with the memory of his own skin against mine. I couldn't understand why I was suddenly feeling this.

It's not that I'm unaware of the fact that my partner is an attractive man. It's more that I haven't felt that kind of desire for any man since my husband was killed almost three years ago. Oh, there have been a couple of fairly casual relationships, both short-lived, but those had been purely physical release and a need for some kind of 'normal' life away from the job. In the end neither of the men involved had been fooled, both seeing that I didn't want or need to take the relationships any further, that I couldn't feel anything deeper for them. The distance I placed between them and my inner self was too great, hence the fact neither relationship lasted more than a few scant months.

What I suddenly felt for my partner as I watched him through the Observation Room window was more than purely physical. It was so much more and that scared me … a lot. Afterall, only four months ago, during our first case together I'd written a letter to Deakins stating that I was concerned about Goren's mental stability. Deakins had talked me into giving it three months, considering I'd already had two partners since my arrival at Major Case. Yet there I was, having withdrawn the letter completely following our second case, when I had started to get a grasp of how Goren's mind worked, seriously considering the possibility of jumping him while I watched him interrogate a suspect.

Now here I am laying on my bed, unable to shake the idea that if Bobby were here with me, holding me, I wouldn't feel the need to get out of bed and wash my hands again. It's only as I make my way to the kitchen, deciding to make myself a cup of tea, that I realise I've somehow managed to go from doubting whether I could even work with Goren to starting to fall in love with the man. I really shouldn't be thinking like this, I tell myself, as I turn the taps on over the kitchen sink, washing my hands again before I turn to pick up the kettle off the stove and fill it with water.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: I decided not to be too cruel, so here's the next chapter. Maybe now I can get some work done on my Good Intentions sequel. I will, of course, keep working on this story as well – I don't think it would let me rest otherwise ;o)

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Bobby's POV

I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to drink myself into a stupor to get some sleep, so I decided I'd go for a drive and somehow I found myself here but I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be sitting outside my partner's house wondering whether, if I get out of my car and knock at her door, she would let me in. We've been partnered together for around four months now, we've settled into a surprisingly comfortable rapport. I've never been able to work with anyone so well as I do with her. Yet there's something more, something else, we've become friends.

Since just about a month into our partnership we've made a point of heading out for a drink together when we've wrapped up a case, not that unusual for most cops, I know, but not something I've never really done one-to-one before, most of my partners wouldn't have gone for a drink alone with me even if I had ask. As it was she was the one who initiated the routine, inviting me out when we closed our second case together. We call each other on our weekends off, just to check in and see how the other is doing. When we work late, and suddenly realise we missed lunch and it's now well past dinner time, I find myself inviting her to my apartment, which is closer the precinct than her house, so that I can cook us something decent for supper, instead of the takeout I know we both tend to order if we're home alone. For me this friendship has been the greatest surprise of all, I don't just slip into friendships easily, yet this woman is already inside my walls and learning things about me that few other people know.

During this last case, I found myself barely able to let Eames out of my sight. Not that I doubt her ability to take care of herself, or me for that matter, but the idea of there being someone out there who was preying on women who matched her physical type, well let's just say it made me nervous for some reason. Then this afternoon … no checking the time on my phone I see it was actually yesterday afternoon … when we finally had Henry Talbot in interrogation, I realised why this case made me so nervous. I shouldn't be so surprised, afterall I've known I was attracted to Eames since my first day at Major Case even though she's not my usual 'type', but the realisation that I seem to be falling in love with my partner hit me like a tonne of bricks as I stood in the Observation Room with Denise Talbot. Watching her husband hitting on Eames it took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to simply walk in there and slam the creep through the wall. He had no right to touch her, even if all he did was run his finger along hers; then again neither have I, which may be why I went after him with such relish. I don't think for one moment that Eames would have appreciated the gesture, had I given in to the temptation to get physical with Talbot.

So you see, I shouldn't be sitting here in my car, opposite her house, at almost 12:30 in the morning, thinking about how much I wish I was inside her house, holding her and telling her exactly why I enjoyed humiliating the slime-ball lawyer/murderer we arrested yesterday. I really shouldn't be here because I have no right to think, not even for a split second, that Alex Eames would want to know how much I would like to do nothing more than to wrap myself around her and make sure the likes of Talbot never get anywhere near her again.

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A/N More to follow soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: Thanks so much to all of you who are reading/reviewing/etc. I'll be keeping the chapters short on this one but I promise they will be arriving on a regular basis ;o)

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Alex's POV

I glance towards the window as a car drives past. '_Damn I must have been out of it when I got home tonight_' I think to myself, noticing that I've left the kitchen blind open.

I hate doing that, the window faces out onto the street in front of the house and anyone could see me wandering around, half asleep with bedhead when I wake in the mornings, before I've had enough coffee to actually make me feel alive. I put the kettle back on the stove, light the gas beneath it, then turn and walk over to the window, reaching up to draw down the blind.

'_What the hell?'_ I see the car parked opposite my house and for a moment think I'm hallucinating. Then I see the drive slouch further down in his seat. There's no mistaking him, even in the dark from across the street. I take a step back from the window and pick up my cell phone from the charger on the counter, hitting speed dial 2.

"Goren" at least he has the decency to sound a little embarrassed.

"Why are you parked outside my house?" I ask, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice.

"I … erm … well … well ya see … I couldn't sleep so … erm … so I decided to go for a drive … erm … and …"

"I'm just making some tea, get in here." I can't stand to listen to his fall over his words any longer, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation.

I wander out into the hall, unlock my front door and then return to the kitchen to finish making the tea. I know Goren will lock up once he's inside. I listen to him open the door, the rustle of fabric as he takes off his jacket and hangs it up. Then the slight thud as he removes his shoes. '_Well he seems to be making himself comfortable anyway.'_ I think as I pour water into the teapot and reach into the cupboard for another mug.

I feel his eyes on my back and turn my head to glance at him over my shoulder. He's standing in my kitchen doorway, well actually he's leaning one shoulder against the frame, his other hand is rubbing the back of his neck, the way he does when he's thinking hard or is feeling unsure about whether he should do what he's thinking of doing. The I turn around to fully face him, seeing a flash of something in his eyes that definitely shouldn't be there, and I feel my stomach tighten again, like it did during the interrogation, as I realise I didn't bother with my dressing gown and all I'm wearing is a very short pair of shorts and a small tank top. I'm well aware of how acute my partner's sense of smell is and I swear I see his nostrils flair, as I feel myself begin to dampen just at the thought of being in the same room as him when I'm wearing next to nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: What is Bobby thinking when he get's Alex's call??

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Bobby's POV

'_I am so screwed_' I think when my cell phone rings in my jacket pocket.

I couldn't exactly miss the fact that Eames had to have seen me when she stepped up to her kitchen window. I certainly couldn't miss seeing Eames, or at least her upper half, as she started to reach for the blind. She's wearing a skimpy top that does little to hide anything and does a great job of emphasising just why she shouldn't be standing in front of her unobscured kitchen window with the light on behind her.

My throat feels tight as I answer my phone. "Goren."

"Why are you parked outside my house?" She sounds amused, which has to be better than the anger I was anticipating.

"I … erm … well … well ya see … I couldn't sleep so … erm … so I decided to go for a drive … erm … and …" When did I lose the ability to form a coherent sentence.

"I'm just making some tea, get in here." She hangs up before I can say anything else.

I actually stare at my phone for a moment before I put it back in my jacket pocket, for a second I seriously consider simply driving away but I know I can't do that. Before I've actually made a conscious decision, I'm out of the car and walking across the road towards her house. I know this is a bad idea, even as I lock her door behind me and hang my jacket beside it. I slip off my shoes and take the few steps down the hall that take me to her kitchen doorway. I rest my right shoulder against the frame, taking a moment to watch her reach for the kettle, pour water into the teapot and then she reaches up to the cupboard above her head.

'_Oh Jesus, I really shouldn't be in here._' I'm rubbing at the back of my neck as I watch her; the play of her muscles under the skin of her back, along the length of her arms and legs; as she stretches upwards. '_Get out, now._' I can hear my commonsense screaming in the back of my head. Then she glances at me, her eyes widen slightly and she turns to face me.

To hell with commonsense, I can breath in her scent from here and, unable to resist what I've been fighting throughout this last case, I take a step towards her. She's leaning back against the counter now, her hands on its edge as if for support. I find myself standing in front of her, my hands either side of hers. I'm not quite touching her but I can feel the heat coming off her body. I'm looking down into eyes I barely recognise as those of my partner, there's a fire burning deep inside them that I never thought I would be the one to see. I feel her hand on the back of my neck.

I don't recognise my own voice as I open my mouth and almost growl. "We shouldn't."

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A/N: In case you haven't already guess - there will be a rating change for the next chapter ;o)


	5. Chapter 5

We Shouldn't

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: So Bobby's at least trying to 'put up a fight' – yeah, right – like that's gonna work ;o)

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**Alex's POV**

I can't stop my hand from rising up and caressing the back of Bobby's neck as he stands in front of me. He isn't touching me, not even his hand next to mine on the counter, although there can't be more than a hair's breadth between them. I'm looking up into his eyes and I certainly like what I'm seeing there. I'd have to be blind or very, very stupid not to know that this man wants me, right now.

"We shouldn't."

Those are the first words either of us has spoken since I hung up my phone. If I hadn't seen his lips move I would never have believed it was Bobby speaking, his voice is a low growl. He's obviously fighting himself, trying to gain some self-control.

'_Oh no you don't, Bobby Goren._' I almost say the thought out loud, as I brush my fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the shiver that runs through him in response.

"Why?" Dear God, I sound almost as unrecognisable as he does. I don't ever remember my voice sounding quite that sultry before in my life.

It doesn't really matter though because that's the end of our conversation for the moment as Bobby's lips brush against mine, almost tentatively. It's really not ideal trying to share a kiss with a man over a foot taller than you when you're in your bare feet and I'm having serious difficulty with deepening this kiss.

Thankfully, Bobby takes the hint when I press more firmly on the back of his neck and I find myself sitting on my kitchen counter, both of his strong, long fingered hands wrapped around my waist. Now how did he manage that without losing contact between our lips. Oh my, I think this may be too much, just the heat from his hands against the bare skin of my midriff is causing my insides to tumble. This can't be happening, I can't possibly be this turned on, it's not as if he's touching my anywhere else, other than his lips against mine.

I've still got one hand on the back of his neck, I can't seem to stop my fingers from threading in and out of his hair, but the hand that was on the counter has somehow migrated to his face. My fingertips are busy investigating just how wonderful that perpetual five-o'clock shadow of his feels and how soft the underlying skin is, as they trail along his jaw and then upwards, outlining the plane of his cheek. I can't help wondering if the rest of him feels this good.

My eyes are closed as I allow myself to wallow in the sensations caused by his lips. I want to remember every second of this kiss, every sensation he evokes in me. I've had my fair share of fantasies about my tall, dark and enigmatic partner. Like I said earlier I've always known he was attractive and a girl can't be held responsible for what her mind gets up to once she's asleep. Somehow I never imagined he would taste this good or that his lips would be the perfect combination of firm yet gentle, they're wonderfully warm and soft, moist without being sloppy, I suddenly can't imagine ever being kissed by someone else after this. There is no way I could ever adequately describe to anyone quite how his lips feel against my own, apart from to say it's almost mind-blowing.

I try to shuffle forward on the counter, I want to feel more of him against me but his hands hold me firmly in place. He acknowledges my attempt to move by squeezing ever so slightly and then his thumbs start to lightly stroke over my skin. He's drawing small circles on my stomach with his thumbs, I can't help but think I'd rather he was doing that a little higher as I feel my nipples harden at the gentle caresses he indulging me with. At the same time I don't want to rush this. I don't know how far we're going to take this tonight, although I know how far I want this to go, and I don't know if he'll ever let this happen again, so I desperately want the opportunity to savour every moment and each individual sensation.

Speaking of individual sensations, I feel the tip of his tongue against the centre of my lower lip. A moan escapes my mouth as I allow him access. He squeezes my waist again, I'm rather enjoying that particular method of non-verbal communication, it reminds me of exactly how strong Bobby is and stirs up thoughts of all kinds of possibilities. This time, as he releases his grip, his hands move upwards a little and his thumbs softly caress the underside of my breasts at the same time as his tongue starts to explore my mouth.

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A/N: I know – I'm cruel – but I'm keeping the chapters short on purpose. It's easier to switch perspectives that way and I really want to keep the 'switching view points' idea going, especially as so many of you seem to like it.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: And so back to Bobby.

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**Bobby's POV**

'_Heaven help me_', I feel a shiver run the length of my body me as her fingers move through the hair at the back of my neck.

"Why?" How can she possibly ask me that, especially when her voice sounds so damn sexy right at this moment that there's no way I can do anything in response but kiss her.

I tend to forget how physically small my partner is when we're working together, or at any other time for that matter. It's got nothing to do with the fact she almost always wears shoes with a minimum three inches on the heel and everything to do with the fact that no one in their right would ever mistake Alex Eames for a small person. Her presence tends to fill any room she walks into, which is very handy when I'm poking around a crime scene or a potential suspect's domain and she's doing her usual admirable job of distracting those around us from my 'activities'. That presence does not help with the physical limitations of attempting to kiss someone when the top of their head doesn't even reach your own shoulder.

Oh sweet Jesus, I'm kissing Eames. I'm barely touching my lips to hers but I can already feel my body responding to the contact. I know I should stop before it's too late. Ah hell, who am I trying to fool here, it was too late the moment I got out of my car.

'_No don't do that, Eames._' My commonsense protests, as I feel her hand on the back of my neck trying to pull me deeper into the kiss. I can't stop my hands from leaving the counter and taking hold of her waist. I know this shouldn't be happening, I shouldn't be touching her bare skin but, damn, it feels good. My tough, no-nonsense Eames doesn't seem quite so tough as I lift her onto her kitchen counter. The delicate fingers of her free hand are almost tenderly brushing along my jaw and up over my cheek, I swear she's leaving a trail of sparks on my skin.

Some part of me is still winning the battle for control though. When I feel her try to scoot forward I grasp her more firmly, keeping her body away from mine. I think I might just spontaneously combust if I don't get a grip of my body's response to this woman who is so far removed from everything that usually attracts me. She's short and blond, I usually go for leggy brunettes; I don't dates cops, in fact, I've made a point of not doing so, too many potential complications and like to keep my relationships, if you can call them that, as casual as possible. I've never before been attracted to a woman who I knew, given the opportunity, could get inside my head as easily as I could get inside hers. No that's wrong, I can't even get inside Eames' head half the time, but I know she can read me like a book most of the time, it's a definite unfair advantage on her part.

She's stopped trying to move forward, which is a good thing considering the effect she's having on me, I haven't reacted to a kiss this way since I was in my teens. I can no longer resist the temptation to stroke her amazingly soft skin. My thumbs start to move in circles where they rest against her stomach and I feel her taught muscles quiver in response. It seems she's as effected by this as I am, especially given the wonderful aroma eminating from her centre, which is driving me just as crazy as the feel of her skin and the taste of her mouth.

The feel of her lips moving against mine is better than anything I ever imagined and, believe me, over the past four months I've done plenty of imagining when it comes to her lips. I need to taste her properly. I want to memorise everything about her; the feel of her, her scent, her taste and the sounds she makes. Like that, the soft moan as she opens to me when the tip of my tongue presses against her lip, seeking entrance. She is exquisite and I know, given the opportunity, I would happily never let her go. I squeeze her waist again, overcome by the sudden wave of possessiveness that goes through me at the thought of having to let her go, even as my tongue starts to explore her mouth. I don't know if this is going to go as far as I want it to, nevermind whether she'd even consider letting it happen again.

As my hands loosen they shift upwards on her torso. Damn that tiny little tank top she's wearing because now it's between my hands and her flesh. Still the weight of her breasts against the curve of my thumbs feels unbelievably perfect, just like the rest of her so far. As I stroke the underside of her breasts I can feel her heartbeat against my right hand, it's thumping like a jackhammer, which is a perfect match for my own heartbeat at this moment.

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A/N: Thanks for sticking with me guys. I promise the really good stuff will be forthcoming soon.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: What do you think – will they make it to the bedroom? Hope you enjoy finding out ;o)

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Alex's POV

Just when I'm beginning to think things can't get much better, they do. As he explores my mouth with his tongue Bobby finally steps closer. My body is going into overdrive and my brain is going into meltdown. I feel as if ever nerve in my body is on fire.

Any minute now I'm either gonna have a stroke or a heart attack because my body can't take the sort of pressure that's building in it at the sensation of being pressed up against Bobby's powerfully built chest. The only problem is that in order to pull my body flush against his he moved his hands around to my back. Mind you, that's not exactly a bad thing because now those amazing fingers of his seem to be drawing patterns on the naked skin of my back, I can feel his fingertips skimming lines of fire up and down my spine, then back and forth across my back, zigzagging from the lower edge of my tank top down to the upper edge of my shorts, in long lazy horizontal strokes that make me arch into him.

At the same time his tongue is exploring every millimetre of my mouth and my own tongue is attempting to return the favour. I need to breath. I pull away from his mouth, immediately regretting the loss but, hmh, what's he doing now. I let my head drop back against the door of the cabinet behind me as Bobby trails kisses down my neck and across my collarbone. Through the haze of sensation I slowly realise that he's saying something.

"Hmm, what?" Good grief is that me speaking? My voice could have come straight out of some porn star's mouth, it's all wispy and breathless.

"Which door is the bedroom, Alex?" Oh my God, I can't even think of the answer.

I find myself staring into his eyes, which right now are so dark they're damn near black, trying to remember which door leads to my bedroom, shortly to be known as paradise on earth, I'm hoping. I see a sudden spark of humour glinting in Bobby's eyes as he speaks again.

"If I'd known kissing you would be such an effective method of keeping you quiet I would have tried it on day one, Eames." He's grinning, the cheeky son of a bitch, and, hey, what happened to 'Alex'?

Oh, was I about to complain about something? What was I complaining about? His lips have reclaimed mine and he's sliding his tongue back into my mouth and I'm really not complaining about anything, honest I'm not, because this feel far too good to be real. His lips are moving across my skin again, this time along my jaw to my ear. I can feel his breath against my ear when he speaks again.

"Which door is your bedroom, Alex?" Is his voice usually that hoarse, I'm pretty sure it isn't.

This time my mind actually manages to get my mouth to kick out an answer. "Across the hall, second door."

That's all the information and encouragement my partner apparently needs because the next sensation that goes through me is of being lifted.

"Goren, what the … put me down." Ah, that sounds more like my usual voice, although it's still rather breathless and husky.

Bobby Goren has me cradled across his chest, one arm under my shoulders, the other under my knees and is currently stepping out of my kitchen and into my hall. I have no choice right now but to wrap my arms around his neck and attempt to protest. Which is quite funny really because, although suitably exasperated words are issuing from my mouth, I'm making no attempt to struggle against his grip and my voice isn't in the least convincing.

"I don't think so, Alex." He drops a quick kiss against my lips, then straightens and continues down the hall to my bedroom door, which it appears I left open when I decided to make myself a drink.

I'm half expecting my partner to go into a caveman act, you know the whole throwing me down in the middle of the bed routine, instead he places me down gently where the covers are flung back. I can still feel the warmth of my own body on the sheet beneath me. More importantly I can feel the warmth of his body against me as he lays his body over mine. He's leaning on his right arm, keeping the majority of his weight off me, and his left hand is gently cradling my cheek.

He's looking down at me with such intensity in his eyes that I can't look back at him, so I close my eyes and take in the sensation of his fingertips, almost cautiously, skimming over the planes of my face, as if he's trying to memorise me as I am in this moment. Then his lips repeat the action of his fingertips. While his lips gently caress every inch of my face his hand is moving lower, fingertips skimming faster now as he moves down to start exploring my body.

I don't dare open my eyes, I'm almost certain if I do I'll wake up and find out this is just another of those dreams I've been having lately. You know the ones I mean, the kind of dreams where you wake up with an ache deep inside. The ones that, when you get to work and see the person you were dreaming about last night, leave you with a vague sense of embarrassment.

I'm unfastening the buttons of his shirt, I can feel his naked skin against the tips of my fingers as I work my way from one button to the next. I know, on some level, that I should be calling a halt to this, that this is not something we should be doing but I can't seem to stop myself as I push his shirt open and my hands shift upwards to push it off his shoulders. Thankfully his sleeves are rolled up already, so there's no fiddling with cuffs as he shrugs the shirt off. My eyes are still closed as I feel him move slightly to get rid of it.

"Alex, please, open your eyes." Since when does Bobby Goren plead, I wonder distractedly as I hear his voice.

I feel his words as much as I hear them, his lips are so close to mine I swear I can feel their movement as he speaks, not just the warmth of his breath against my skin. My hands are exploring the newly exposed skin of his torso and I'm taking in the feel of his muscles beneath his skin. I don't want to open my eyes, I'm almost scared of what I might find if I do.

"Alex, baby, please." He sounds almost desperate now and that, in itself, is enough to flip my eyelids open.

I was right to be scared. The intensity I closed my eyes to escape is still there in the eyes now staring into mine. I should not be seeing what I think I'm seeing in my partner's eyes. I should be seeing the desire, that's more than acceptable right now; the lust, I can definitely work with; it's the thing he's trying to damn hard to hide that I shouldn't be seeing, and I hope I'm doing a better job than he is of hiding it, because I should not, repeat not, be seeing love in my partner's eyes and I hope to god he can't see it reflected in mine.

"Hi." He says and kisses me so softly it's almost the whisper of a kiss.

"Hi." I say back and return his kiss, just as softly.

My hands have worked their way back down to his waist and my fingers are busy unfastening the jeans he's wearing. The hand that has been busily exploring my body is inexplicably gripping those fingers.

"You're sure?" He's a little late with that question, but I appreciate the opportunity all the same. Trust Bobby to always give a girl the option.

"I'm sure. You?" Hell no, I'm not sure. In fact I'm pretty sure this could kill me, given how turned on I am right at this moment. I mean, get serious a minute here. I'm still in my pyjamas, he's still half dressed, we haven't touched each other intimately yet and I'm absolutely certain I've never been this turned on before in my life. I'm probably going to dissolve completely before we're done.

"Yes. Do we need…" I cut off his question with another, barely there, kiss.

"Pill." I feel a shudder run through him at that single word.

I don't usually let a man know I'm on the pill, it tends to lead to discussion about whether or not a condom is required and, so far as I'm concerned, a condom is always required. It was a strict policy of mine prior to my marriage and neither of my lovers since Joe died had known that doing it without barrier protection was an option.

"We can still use …" I cut him off again, this time because I've gotten his jeans unzipped and I've slipped my hand inside his fly and am rubbing the backs of my fingers up and down his erection through the fabric of his boxers.

"I trust you. I do usually use a condom but, unless you want to …"

I let my comment hang as I remove my hand from inside his jeans and start to push them down off his hips, boxers included. Discussion time seems to be over as, between us, we shed the remaining barriers of his jeans and my pyjamas. I can't keep track anymore of who's doing what to whom as we explore each other with our mouths and hands. I am aware of, but barely recognise, noises I make as he sets himself the task of discovering which points on my body cause what reaction. I do know he makes me cry out, several times, when he takes first one of my breasts then the other into his mouth. His tongue should be classified as one of the wonders of the modern world. I know I hear moans, hisses and groans escape from him as my hands, lips and tongue locate sensative points on his body.

It seems that this whirling blur of sensations goes on forever before I feel his fingers ease between my folds, testing and teasing. I'm so close to the edge that I almost scream when the tips of his fingers brush against my throbbing clit.

He's somehow ended up on his back and I'm laying more or less on top of him. I stiffen at the contact of his fingertips against my sensitised nub and he, bless him, notices. He was torturing a particularly sensitive spot on my neck, I think, but now he's looking up at me. His eyes are still dark with passion, he's still trying his best to hide that deeper emotion we're not supposed to be feeling, but now there's a definite light of self-satisfaction, and is that wonder, to be seen.

"Are you always like this?" He sounds a little stunned, as if he expected to have to work harder for the response he's getting from my body.

"Like what?" '_I can't think right now, Bobby, I'm kinda busy melting._' I wish I could actually get the words out because it might just encourage him to continue what he was doing. Oh, nevermind, no further encouragement required. Two of those amazingly long fingers of his slide into my centre and his thumb strokes across my clit.

"So damn hot, Alex."

He's investigating the inside of me as thoroughly as he has done the outside. He doesn't just thrust his fingers into me, no the considerate bastard is actually caressing my inner walls, searching out pleasure points and looking for that one particular spot that has eluded every lover in my past. I can't help but press myself more firmly against his hand in response.

Oh … My … God … this can't be …Oh Bobby please don't stop … I hear myself scream his name, as the entire universe crashes to a halt around me. I think hear myself cry out his name again, only this time it's not a scream so much as a moan, then a strange sobbing sound reaches my ears and I become aware of being cradled gently against a wonderfully broad, muscular chest, as I slowly come back to earth.

This can't be right. I don't come from being fingered, at least not since I was a hormone crazed teenager. So why do I feel so wonderfully spent and why the hell is Bobby kissing tears from my cheeks.

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A/N: Ooops, so much for keeping the chapters short – I'm sure you don't mind too much though. Okay, let's go see what Bobby made of all this. Then on to the 'main event'.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: Sorry for the slight delay. My husband decided to take the day off today – which made getting the privacy to write this rather difficult.

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Bobby's POV

I finally allow myself to move my body closer to hers. I think I can risk it now without exploding on the spot at the contact. I slide my hands around to her back and pull her against me, savouring the feel of her hardened nipples pressing into my chest. I can't keep my hands still, I want to touch every inch of her skin but for the moment I'll make do with exploring the length of her spine and the breadth, small as it is, of her back where it's exposed between the two patches of cloth that constitutes her nightwear. I can't help but wonder if the rest of her body will be as sensitive to my touch as her back seems to be, because if she keeps moving like she's doing at the moment, I may well not survive the night.

I know this whole situation is going cause problems, because if nothing else the next time someone asks how I put up with my partner's sharp tongue I'm going to have a hard time not correcting them. There are many words beginning with 'S' that I could now use to describe the tongue currently twining itself around mine and exploring my mouth but sharp isn't one of them; silken, sensuous, sweet, sumptuous, salacious; any one of those but definitely not sharp.

I'm not sure how much longer I'm gonna have the use of my legs because her body arching against mine is about to short-circuit every nerve in my body. There's only one realistic solution to this problem. As she pulls her mouth away from mine I take the opportunity to do two things. First, I start to kiss her neck, she tastes unbelievably good and I'm tempted to strip off the ridiculously small tank top she's wearing to find out if her breasts taste this good as well. I settle for tasting my way along her collarbone instead, yep still tastes good. Second, as I feel my legs beginning to shake at the effort of retaining enough control to remain standing, I ask a question that, until tonight, I never thought I'd be asking at all.

"Alex, which door is the bedroom?"

"Hmm, what?" Her voice is so soft and breathless I can barely hear her.

"Which door is the bedroom, Alex?" She's staring at me as if I've asked her to name all 50 states, alphabetically. It strikes me that I've got Alex Eames so damn worked up she can't answer a simple question. I can't help but grin at the thought and I can't very well let the moment pass uncommented upon.

"If I'd known kissing you would be such an effective method of keeping you quiet I would have tried it on day one, Eames."

I reinforce my point by kissing her again, unable to resist the lure of her mouth. How the hell did I manage to work the last four months with this woman and not do this sooner? I finish reacquainting myself with her mouth and decide I really do need an answer to my question. I work my way from her lips to her ear, unable to tear my lips away from her skin.

"Which door is your bedroom, Alex?" I'm starting to have trouble speaking and I can't remember ever feeling this aroused before in my life. Nevermind that I'm still fully clothed and she's still, technically at least, covered up.

I'm a little surprised when she manages to answer me this time. "Across the hall, second door."

Thank God. The strength returns to my legs as sweep I Alex off the counter and into my arms, turning us both around and heading towards her kitchen door.

"Goren, what the … put me down." That nearly sounds like Eames, except for the huskiness in place of the steely edge her voice would normally carry when she's telling me off for something.

"I don't think so, Alex." I kiss her quickly, before I can lose my nerve or the weakness returns to my legs, and carry her across the hall to the open door of her bedroom.

It's easy to figure out which side of the bed she prefers, the blankets are already folded back and I place her down on the sheet, following her down onto the bed.

'_God she's beautiful_', I can't seem to find my voice at the moment because I'm staring down into my partner's eyes and, just before they drift closed, I swear I see something more than desire in them. I still can't believe I'm doing this, as I start to trace the planes of her face with my left hand, then follow the path my fingertips have just traced with my lips.

As my left hand sets about exploring the curves of her body, her fingers are working on the buttons of my shirt, pushing it off my shoulders. Even the light contact between her fingertips and the skin of my chest is enough to send shocks through my body, I never knew anyone could make me feel like this. I somehow manage to shrug off my shirt. She's keeping her eyes closed, and there's a slight frown on her brow, as if she's worried about something. I need to see her eyes, to know this is still what she wants.

"Alex, please, open your eyes." I realise as I speak that I sound like I'm begging, but at this point I don't care. I'm just barely holding myself in check, and the sparks running from her hands along the flesh of my chest and back really aren't helping. I'm pretty sure the movement of my hand over her skin is having a similar affect, I know the almost imperceptible shivers running through her body are beyond her control.

"Alex, baby, please." It's taking every ounce of self-control I have left not to close the fraction of an inch that separates my mouth from hers and then her eyes open.

Her frown deepens for a second and I think there's a sprinkle of fear in her eyes. Then her eyes clear, all trace of the frown is gone, and she's looking at me like she did back in the kitchen. I want to tell her exactly how much she means to me but all I can manage to get out is "Hi", before I find my lips brushing lightly against hers.

"Hi." She whispers up at me and returns my kiss, just as gently. Then I realise her hands are at the waistband of my jeans and I remember the fear I saw in her eyes a moment ago. I stop her from taking any further action by gently

"You're sure?" I have to ask, I have to be certain, this is too important to mess up.

"I'm sure. You?" There's nothing but certainty and passion in her voice, but I can't allow myself to relax just yet, there's something else I need to ask.

"Yes. Do we need…" '_Hey, that's cheating._' She's distracting me with her kiss now.

"Pill." I feel a shudder go through me at the implication of her answer. I know I want to be able to feel every inch of her but even so …

"We can still use …" What was I about to say. She's somehow wriggled her hand out of mine and into my jeans. I can feel the back of those delicate, tiny, yet amazingly strong fingers brushing against me through the single layer of fabric that now separates her from me and I lose the thread of what I was trying to say.

"I trust you. I do usually use a condom but, unless you want to …"

She's pushing my jeans and boxers down over my hips and all possibility of conscious thought, nevermind further conversation, is lost to me as I help her shed what remains of my cloths and then remove the shorts and tank top from her body. She's perfect and I hope I'm showing her exactly how wonderful she is as I attempt to discover which points on her body bring her the most pleasure. I'm trying to memorise each of the small noises that escape her as I explore her body with my hands and mouth. At the same time I'm trying to catalogue each taste, as I sample her flesh with my lips and tongue, I can't resist gently nipping at her occasionally, putting just enough pressure through my teeth to leave the faintest of impressions on her skin. I know she's doing the same thing to me, tasting, teasing, discovering and I'm not objecting, as incoherent noises fall from my lips and onto her skin.

We must have shifted positions quite a few times, not that I can actually remember, because now I'm laying on my back underneath one extremely aroused, amazingly beautiful woman. I slide my left hand up her thigh, whilst I nuzzle and nibble at a point on her neck that I really like, it makes her squirm and moan softly. Then, as my hand reaches its destination and the very tips of my fingers part her folds, feathering across the tiny bundle of nerves I intend to pay careful attention to, I feel her stiffen and a shrill squeak escapes her before she clamps her mouth shut, cutting it off. My face leaves the haven of her neck and I meet her eyes. There is no sign of fear or doubt there, and I realise she's fighting for self-control.

"Are you always like this?" The tone of my voice does nothing to hide my wonder at her response to my attentions.

"Like what?" She gasps and I slide my index and middle fingers into her, stroking my thumb across her clit as I penetrate her. Her hips buck against my hand as I swirl my fingers around her inner walls, seeking those places that make her clench around my digits, hoping to find that one spot that will finally tip her over the edge.

"So damn hot, Alex." I grind the words out, fighting the impulse to remove my fingers from her and lift her so that she's straddling me. I'm desperate to be inside her but I realise that, with her so small and me definitely not, I need to bring her to orgasm before I can make love to her. I smile and kiss her neck again to hide my smile from her. I know she's been trying to hide her emotions from me, so I've done my best to hide my own from her, but she can't disguise the fact that she's feeling the same thing I am. This is about more than just physical attraction for both of us.

I continue my ministrations, considering for a moment whether to lay her down on the bed and taste her centre. I decide against any change of position when, as I slide a third finger into her warmth, her walls clamp around my fingers and her hips begin to buck without rhythm.

"Bbbobbbbyyyy." My name passes her lips as a long drawn out scream. My own hips buck upwards in response to her cry and for a split second, as I press against her thigh, I honestly think I'm gonna lose all control before I even get the chance to actually be inside her.

As I manage to assert some control over my body, I concentrate on her, continuing to press my fingertips against that point inside her that's making her literally scream with passion, whilst my thumb circles around her clit. Now she's not only screaming my name again but she's sobbing, burrowing her face into my neck as her body shakes with release and tears start to slip from her eyes, I can feel them against my skin. I draw out her pleasure until her body goes completely relaxed, at the same time I manage to get her to look up at me. I've never known anyone react so intensely to an orgasm before but I was right, she's crying. I start kissing the tears from her face, occasionally brushing my lips against hers, still unable to resist her amazing mouth even as gentle sobs are still falling from her lips.

As her body relaxes and she finally starts to come down from her orgasm, I shift her so that she's laying completely on top of my and sit up slightly, so that I can hold her against my chest and finish kissing away the tears that are still wetting her cheeks. By the time she's become fully aware of her surroundings I have my arms wrapped around her and I'm nuzzling gently at her face, softly lapping the last of her tears and kissing away the tracks their predecessors have left in their wake.

I know when she's fully back with me. One of those tiny hands of hers comes up to the back of my neck and her mouth finds mine. She's shifting her body, I realise what she's up to and try to tighten my arms around her to stop her but her body is now slick with a fine layer of perspiration, making it difficult to keep a hold on her without gripping too hard. Then I wonder why I was trying to stop her in the first place.

Given our relative positions when she started to manoeuvre it's only taken a small shift for her to achieve her goal. She's straddling me and it's my turn to scream her name as she lowers herself, surrounding my hardened flesh with her molten heat in one motion.

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A/N: Hope I didn't disappoint anyone ;o)


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: Final chapter for this Post-Ep but I will be adding to this story – I have at least two more episodes from Season 1 I want to cover.

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Alex's POV

Never before in my life has an orgasm reduced me to tears, then again I've never experienced an orgasm as intense of the one Bobby just brought me to. This man is truly amazing, he's softly kissing away the last of the tears from my cheeks. Who would ever believe that such a big man was so gentle, his actions are almost reverent.

Now that I'm back in control of my body I can feel his erection pressing against my thigh and I realise, with another wave of intense arousal, just how much I want to feel him inside me. Hmm, I'm enjoying the feel of his lips and tongue as he removes the residue of my tears from my face, the slightly scrape of his stubble is a wonderful counterpoint to the softness of his lips and the smooth strength of his tongue on my skin. Time to show my appreciation.

Wrapping my hand around his neck once more I kiss him. Not only does this keep him in place for my kiss, it allows me to steady myself as I shift myself around slightly in his lap so that I'm straddling him. I feel his arms tighten around me, as if to keep me from moving, but the slickness he's brought to my skin doesn't allow for much grip.

I almost cry out again as I impale myself on his wonderfully hard member, but manage to keep it down to a load, satisfied moan as he fills me. I've never been with anyone his size before. The sensation as he stretches my walls and his glans nudge against my cervix is beyond description.

He obviously isn't about to complain, not if the way he just shouted my name loud enough to shake the walls of my bedroom is anything to go by.

The feeling of him filling me is too exquisite to mess with so I start rocking my hips and lightning flashes fill my body as his length and breadth hit every pleasure point within me. I'm looking into his eyes and I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful as the joy I see written there. Things only get better as he thrust upwards into me. Good god I didn't think I could feel any fuller but Bobby somehow manages it. There are soft, incoherent moan falling from my lips as I ride him and I don't care if I sound ridiculous because this feels ridiculously marvellous. Every inch of my body is on fire for this man as I feel waves of pleasure rushing through my body.

I can't take much more of this. He's kissing me with so much hunger and passion I can almost believe he could consume me; this feeling could consume me. I shouldn't be feeling that extra something that's making this so much more than just sex. This isn't fucking; this is lovemaking and I can feel the flow of emotion between us and I know we shouldn't be feeling this.

Love can cause too many complications in our partnership and this is the best partnership I've had. I know he needs me to help him maintain his sometimes tenuous balance in the job. We shouldn't be doing this at all, we shouldn't be feeling what I know we're both feeling even if neither of us has said the words.

'_Please, Bobby,_' I think desperately, as I feel him start to roll the two of us over, '_please, don't say the words!_'

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Bobby's POV

She's so damn tight I can barely fit into her, which feels incredible because she's so warm and wet that, even with her so small and me so big, nothing has ever felt anywhere near to being this good. Her lack of hesitation is amazing to me and I realise that she's finding the way we fit together just as wonderful as I am. The sensation of her walls tightening around me as she rocks her hips against mine surpasses anything I've experienced and I can't help but thrust into her, even though it's not that easy given that I'm half sat up. I want to erase her body's memory of any and all lovers she has known in the past. I want this to be the best she's ever had because she's certainly the best thing that's ever happened to me.

The little moaning noises she's making are almost enough to strip me of what little self-control I have left. I need to taste her, so I pull her to me and kiss her again. I'm pouring everything I'm feeling into this kiss. All the passion she has aroused in me, all the need I feel for her, a hunger unlike anything before this and, beyond all those other feelings, the love that I can't hide or hold back any longer. I know she feels it too, that this is more than just a night's passion but I still don't know if she'll let this be more.

I need to thrust into her and I can't do that as we are now, not the way I want to. I lock my arms around her back and roll us over so that she is beneath me. Somehow I manage to stay inside her and keep my mouth against hers even as I manoeuvre us both. I'm painfully aware of the differences in our sizes at this moment and I'm careful to take my weight on my forearms as I rise up above her.

I look down at the most beautiful woman in the world and, if it's possible, I fall even more in love with her as I see the love she's been so desperately trying to hide shining from her eyes. The kiss we share is so intense it literally steals my mind and my body is moving on autopilot as I begin to move within her. She's unbelievably responsive, her hips meeting mine in perfect rhythm. Usually being this in synch with a lover takes some time but Alex's body seems to know what mine will do before I know it myself.

I can't think, I can only feel. I feel her slightly body undulating beneath me, our hips slamming into each other, her breasts pressing against my chest. I feel her tight warmth around my shaft, the slickness of her centre as I pull back only to thrust in even deeper. I feel her take me into her, stretching and contracting, as her hands roam over my body, sending sparks flying along every nerve. I feel the skin of her back against the palms of my hands as I cradle her body, the tattoo of her heartbeat thumping within her chest.

I hear her wailing my name again, as her hips buck and her core tightens around me to the point of pain and then she takes me with her, over the edge into ecstasy, crying out her name as I go.

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Aftermath

It's been almost half an hour since they experienced something so intense that neither one of them would be able to find the words to describe it. They're laying facing each other, Alex's blankets pulled over them, but they don't actually remember moving into that position or who managed to gather the strength to move enough to pull the covers over them.

"Bobby." Alex's voice is gentle as she strokes her partner's face with her fingertips.

"Alex." Bobby responds and kisses her softly on the lips.

"You do know we shouldn't do this again, don't you." It's not a question. It's Alex's way of telling him they can't risk their partnership.

Even though he knows what she's really saying and understands why she's saying it, Bobby has to try. "Just because we shouldn't, doesn't have to mean we can't." Another kiss, more intense this time, follows his softly spoken assertion.

She returns his kiss, with the same intensity. When it's over she speaks again.

"We have to at least try …" she doesn't really want to say this but she knows she must. "We have to at least try to put this aside. I'm not sure we can do this and work together."

He nods, regret written all over his face for the decision she's come to, but most definitely not for what has happened between them. He knows what she's getting at, they're both very tied up in the job and the way they work together can be incredibly intense. Given what they've experienced together tonight a personal relationship would be no less intense. Could they handle that kind of duel intensity, being together so much of the time in both roles; partners and lovers; could that burn them both out, either on or off the job, maybe even both?

"Do you want me to leave now?" He's fervently hoping she doesn't. He desperately wants to stay and hold her through one night at least.

"Would I be horrible if I asked you to stay?"

He gathers her more closely to him and whispers his answer to her. "No, Alex, you could never be anything but incredible."

The only answer she can summon is a kiss, she's afraid to trust her voice again right now because she knows if her voice cracks, as she fears it would, tears will follow.

They stay wrapped around each other, kissing and touching until they fall asleep, they will wake still in each other's arms. Neither of them says the words 'I love you' but every kiss and caress they share screams it.

Tomorrow, when they wake and he has to leave, they will, once again, be Goren and Eames but for now, just for tonight, they will let themselves be Bobby and Alex.

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A/N: So here ends the Post-Ep for 'Jones'. I'm willing to take suggestions, if anyone has a particular favourite episode from Season 1 they'd like me to 'smut up', I'm willing to give it a try. Otherwise I'll just move on to 'The Third Horseman' – I love the scene where she asks him to "Promise me a margarita when this is all over" not to mention the bit where she nails him about his views on abortion – that scene just screams for some backstory.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: For Fanmlz – A short foray into 'The Pardoner's Tale' because after what just happened, Lewis's comment would be bound to get them both thinking – just a quick stop off before we get the 'The Third Horseman'. This is actually quite angsty compared to my usual writing – so I'm sorry – it's just how this scene played itself out when I rewatched the episode again after I'd finished writing the first part of this story.

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Bobby's POV

I'm standing behind my buddy Lewis and Alex as they look at the engine he's working on. I hear her comment about the engine and ask him who he's trying to outrun and smile to myself, for some reason proud that my partner has this unexpected knowledge of cars.

I have to keep reminding myself to think of her only as Eames, my partner; not to think of Alex, whose body is nothing short of a work of art and who, almost a month ago now, put an end to any possibility of me ever being satisfied with any other woman. We still manage to work together seamlessly but we're careful now not to end up at each other's home after-hours. If we need to do extra work on a case we order takeout to be delivered to the squad room and eat there while we go over files and discuss strategies. I'm extra vigilant about whether I touch Eames, not that I've ever been exactly tactile with my partner but now, knowing what her skin feels like, how intoxicating its silky heat really is, I keep myself under tight control. I cannot risk touching Eames and finding Alex responding to my touch, I know I could not maintain my own tightly-strung control were that to happen.

Lewis's response, as Eames straightens and walks away from the car, brings my heart to my throat. "Whoa, I think I'm in love."

I don't say anything, I'm pretty sure I even manage to keep the slight smile I'm wearing in place, as my mind screams. '_Too late, she's mine. I want her and I need her and I love her and, at some point, somehow, I will find a way to convince her that this can work._'

I know Eames hears him, Eames hears everything that's said around her. Her eyes flicker to mine and it isn't my partner's cool, professional eyes I'm looking into; these are Alex's eyes, they're stormy with passion and love, and she's letting me see, just for a moment, that not saying anything isn't changing anything for her either.

Then a flash of amusement at Lewis's comment covers the maelstrom of other emotions that the same comment provoked and Eames is back. I guess that means I have to go back to being Goren, because right now if I was Bobby, I'd show Lewis exactly what he was missing by taking Alex in my arms and kissing her utterly senseless.

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Alex's POV

I can feel Bobby's eyes on me as I lean over the engine with Lewis and I allow myself to enjoy his attention. Knowing I shouldn't be enjoying the sensation of his eyes on my body as he watches me only adds to the tightening in the pit of my stomach.

"… Who you tryin' to outrun?" I decide, as teasing Bobby at the moment is too dangerous, I'll tease his buddy instead.

"Whoa, I think I'm in love." Lewis's six word, off the cuff comment, as I step away from him and the car he's working on, throws my carefully held control into a tailspin.

On reflex my eyes seek those of my lover; who isn't really my lover but my partner, with whom I have been carefully maintaining an illusion for the last few weeks to cover up 'the incident'. The illusion is carefully woven and its edges are tightly laced together and it hides the fact that I have, somehow, managed to fall completely in love with this man and that when we made love it was unlike anything I had ever experienced in my life. I am the one who insisted on the illusion, which I know causes him as much pain as it does me because I know he loves me just as intensely as I love him, even if we did manage not to say the words.

The illusion has been very convincing. It has nothing to do with how we work together, or maybe it does, because since we've been weaving its cloak around us we have, if anything, worked even better together. In fact, we're working together so well that Deakins asked me, about two weeks ago, whether I could actually read Goren's mind. That neither 'the incident' nor the illusion that it hides has impacted on our ability to work as a team doesn't really help me, when I was the one to insist that what happened between us almost four weeks ago now must remain hidden; that we must not acknowledge the emotions that Lewis's innocent comment has sent reeling, at least within me. Yet at a moment like this, when another man attempts to intrude onto 'his territory', despite insisting on the illusion, I find myself unable to maintain its boundaries, I can't help but think that Bobby must surely feel something.

As soon as my eyes meet his I feel the heat flare between us and for a moment the illusion is gone. My love for him, my need, my passion, my hunger, I let them all flood from my eyes to his. I can't help myself because I can see the possessive hunger in his own eyes, even as his lips curve in a mild smile of amusement. Then I pull the edges of the illusion back together, masking myself in amusement and hoping that Goren will let the moment pass, because I'm pretty sure of what I just read in Bobby's mind and we shouldn't, we really shouldn't let anything like that happen again.

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A/N: And poor Lewis has no idea of what just went on behind his back – bless him ;o) Now I'm going to finish writing the first part of the Post-Ep for 'The Third Horseman'.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: As promised – this is the start of the Post-Ep (or more accurately part 'missing scene'/'expanded scene'/part 'post-ep') for 'The Third Horseman'. By my reckoning the point where this starts is about one month after Lewis's appearance in 'The Pardoner's Tale' and two months after the end of 'Jones'.

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Alex's POV

It's been a little over a week since Dr Leo Cavella was shot dead in his living room and this whole case is beginning to wear on my nerves. I know from the way Carver reacted when we first discussed the case that he actually does have some sympathy with our shooter, even though he's trying to play it down. Well, maybe it's just me being over sensitive about the entire subject of abortion. I can't let the past get in the way of doing my job, yet as we sit with Zach watching the email exchange between our two suspects, I find myself determined to put my partner on the spot. Afterall, from what he said to Cutler, it seems that his views may parallel those of our ADA.

"What do you really think?" My tone is almost demanding and I know my nerves are beginning to fray.

"I'll tell you what I think when I get pregnant." His tone is almost flippant, which just gets me more wound-up.

"You're gonna have to do a lot better than that, Bobby." That was definitely snappish.

He turns to face me and I realise that he's looking at me far more intensely than he usually does. He's figured out that there's something going on here he knows nothing about and it's making him a little uneasy. He can see how important this is to me.

"Okay." He hesitates for a moment, as if he can tell that his answer will carry weight with me.

His hand rubs across his mouth and I find my eyes concentrating on just his fingers and his lips, rather than watching his entire face. I remember how his lips felt against my skin, how he tasted when we kissed, exactly what this long, dexterous fingers can do to my body. Suddenly how he answers this question has taken on an greater significance, as I feel the cords binding 'the illusion' which has protected me for two months now weakening, and a nervous feeling of nausea sits heavy in my stomach as I wait for whatever words come from his mouth.

"Life is full of uncertainty. People need to have options. Abortion has got to be one of those options. That's what I think."

I feel relief wash through my body. I don't get the opportunity to respond to Bobby as Zach draws our attention back to the computer screen he's been careful to keep watching, whilst trying not to listen to our conversation.

I didn't think I gave a damn anymore what other people, besides my family, might think of my reaction to the hardest decision I was ever faced with. I've never told my family about my pregnancy, there was never any need for them to know. Now I realise that I am, very soon, going to have to explain to my partner exactly why this case is cutting so close to home with me. Deep inside I know he won't let this go, it's not in his nature to do so and, much to my surprise, I'm thankful. For some reason I feel I don't want to carry this secret alone any longer and I know that this man who is my partner, my friend, will not judge me because of a decision I had to make before I ever knew him.

**Bobby's POV**

I know she's uncomfortable with this case, it's been written all over her reactions since we started working it just over a week ago. I know there's something going on in her head that I can't begin to fathom. Is it possible, I find myself wondering at various moments, that there could be something in her past that makes this case so personal to her.

"What do you really think?" Her tone is serious but I don't want to discuss this subject in front of Zach, the computer technician who's helping us with the case.

"I'll tell you what I think when I get pregnant." I know my attempt to lighten the mood isn't going to work but I want to be able to talk to her about this without anyone else being there. I wish we could spend some time alone together, maybe take her back to my place, cook a nice meal, open a decent bottle of wine and really discuss what it is about this case that's got my usually rock-steady partner so far off centre.

"You'll have to do a lot better than that, Bobby." See I knew she wasn't gonna let me off the hook so easily.

I turn my back to Zach, giving her my full attention and it's so difficult not to reach out and touch her. The pain in her voice is palpable, and now I know that at some point in her life Alex has been faced with making this decision herself. At some point Alex has been faced with whether or not to continue carrying a child. Whether I will ever be party to her decision and its circumstances, I have no idea but I do know that I will only have this one opportunity to tell her how I feel about this subject because she won't re-open this door if I attempt to fob her off again.

"Okay." The intensity of the emotion in her eyes gives me further reason to pause and consider my words carefully. "Life is full of uncertainty. People have to have options. Abortion has to be one of those options. That's what I think."

I see the relief in her eyes just as Zach speaks to us, something interesting is going on with our suspect, but for once I really don't want to turn my attention back to the case. What I want to do right now is take the woman in front of me in my arms and tell her that whatever happened, whatever it is that this case has brought to the forefront of her mind, we can deal with it. I want to comfort her even though I have no idea what happened or what decision she made. Still, I'm unsure if the relief that flashed through her eyes was at my response to her comment or at Zach's interruption. I hope it was my response.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

**

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**

Alex's POV

Carver and I have a short discussion regarding how he intends to handle the case when it gets to court. It takes a great deal of self-control not to slap the ADA's hand away as he gives my forearm a gentle squeeze. I know he's trying to reassure me that we'll get this guy but he seems to have no idea of what the real problem is.

As Carver tries to reassure me, Bobby comes back into the Observation Room with a printout in his hand. Carver turns and leaves the room, Deakins is already gone and I find myself alone with my partner.

"Promise me a margarita when this is all over." I don't believe I used that tone of voice right here in the Observation Room. That was so completely unlike the way I usually sound at work.

Bobby meets my eyes and gives me that little smile of his that goes straight to my knees and I wonder if he knows how deeply he can affect me with such a simple action. The fact that he's dressed casually right now really doesn't help. The sight of him in jeans, t-shirt and fatigue jacket is enough to stop me thinking about anything other than the possibility of what could, so easily, happen between us again if only I would give us the chance. Then he draws my attention to the information he's looking at and we're back to working the case.

**Bobby's POV**

I had to leave the Observation Room because being in such close proximity to my partner, when I can feel her discomfort so clearly but do nothing to alleviate her pain is just too much to handle right now. As I return, printout in hand, I see Carver grip her forearm and my self-restraint is tested anew as I fight the temptation to tell him to keep his hands to himself.

Two months of being unable to touch her is getting close to killing me from sheer frustration. I've never wanted any woman this badly and yet I know I have to let her be the one to decide if we will take a step away from our professional selves again, because she was the one who decided we shouldn't be anything more than partners and friends.

"Promise me a margarita when this is all over." I smile at her as she speaks and look into her eyes. For a second this is Alex in front of me, vulnerable and open, and I feel again the urge the comfort the woman I love.

I have to force myself to draw her attention to the papers in my hand and watch her instant transformation back into Eames, as we go back to working the case at hand.

**Alex's POV**

Well it's all over, Griscom has been transferred to Central Booking and Deakins has just told me and Bobby to take tomorrow off. It's late at night after a long day and this has been a tough case for all of us, I guess even Deakins has picked up on my tension. I wonder if Bobby will suggest taking me to the bar we've been frequently recently near 1PP for the margarita I more or less begged him to buy me a few days ago. I decide to leave the first move up to Bobby. I know it's unfair of me to do so, given that I was the one who put a distance between us in private but I need to know that he still wants me, that he's willing to give us a chance. This case has reminded me that life can throw up all kinds of surprises, some good, some bad. Perhaps falling in love with my partner doesn't have to be one of the bad surprises, especially as I believe he loves me in return.

"Alex." I look up to find myself gazing into his eyes.

"Bobby." I sound tired but oddly relaxed. I don't feel relaxed, I'm on tenterhooks.

"You still wanna get that margarita?" His voice is soft, pitched low so that there's no chance of the few of our colleagues who are still in the squad room hearing him.

I hesitate for just a moment, knowing this is going to be more than just a drink between partners. This is, possibly, going to be us talking about why this case struck so close to home for me. This is, very possibly, going to the two of us, once again, stepping away from the bounds of our professional relationship and into territory we charted two months ago. Two months ago that territory seemed too dangerous to continue exploring but now I think, maybe, I was wrong because trying to ignore what happened that night, and more importantly what I know we both felt that night, really isn't working.

I haven't been able to drag my eyes away from his and I know he can easily read what I'm thinking, it's there in my eyes, because I simply don't have the energy to try and hide it from him any longer.

"Sounds like a plan." I reply, my voice equally quiet.

"Mahoney's?" He suggests the bar near 1PP we've tended to frequent for the past two months. It's safe there, nothing can happen, we both have to get to our respective homes after a couple of drinks and things can't get out of hand.

"Jake's." I state simply, still looking into his eyes.

Jake's is actually Halloran's Bar & Grill in Brooklyn. It belongs to a retired cop and is very much in Bobby's neighbourhood, in fact it's only a couple of blocks from his apartment. We used to drop in there for a few drinks on evenings when I was dropping him off at his place and then I'd decide I couldn't be bothered to drive the rest of the way to my house in Rockaway. Since 'the incident' I've avoided the temptation that staying over at his apartment would place before me but tonight I want to be able to talk to him in private and I figure we can head to Jake's grab a meal, since we skipped lunch, have a couple of drinks and then head back to his apartment to talk. What will happen after that, I'm not sure, so much depends of his reaction to what I need to tell him about my past.

He nods and his eyes drop from mine, as he gathers his belongings from his desk. I have no idea what's going on in his head, as I follow his lead and gather my things ready to leave. I just hope I can get through the conversation ahead and still be sure of his respect and friendship for me.

**Bobby's POV**

We're finally done with this case, Griscom is in custody, the preliminary paperwork is finished and Deakins has just headed out, telling me and Alex to take the next day off. I check the time, it's almost eleven o'clock but that's not too late to head out and grab a drink, maybe get something to eat since neither of us has eaten since breakfast. I really want to take a chance that Alex will still be willing to open up about what happened to her that made this case so deeply personal. I know if we don't talk about this tonight she'll rebury whatever it is and there will be another wall between us. The last thing I want is to have more barriers between us.

I glance around the squad room. Most of our colleagues have already headed home but I still keep my voice low and intimate to ensure I'm not overheard.

"Alex." She looks up from the paperwork she's just completed. There's no surprise in her eyes at my use of her first name.

"Bobby." She tired, I can hear it in her voice but, for the first time since we caught this case, there's no tension in her voice or her eyes.

"You still wanna get that margarita?" God I hope she says yes.

"Sounds like a plan." She hasn't broken eye contact at all and I take that as a good sign. In fact, given that she's not trying to hide what she's feeling right now, it's a very good sign.

"Mahoney's?" That's the bar a few blocks away that we've taken to visiting for our after work drinks since the night we made love. We used to go there early on in our partnership, before our friendship allowed her to stay at my apartment on those nights when she didn't feel like the longer drive to her own home.

"Jake's." She counters, not elaborating upon her choice of what had, prior to that night two months ago, become our regular hangout on those nights she decided to sleep at my place.

I nod, I can't trust myself to speak because I can see in her eyes that tonight she wants to talk to me. She wants to tell me what she's been battling not to react to, unsuccessfully, throughout our investigation. There's more than that in her eyes though. For the first time since the day I introduced her to Lewis a month ago, I can clearly see her love and need for me in her eyes. I just hope I can give her what she needs from me tonight.

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A/N: Next chapter – margarita anybody?


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: Back to the alternating perspectives for each of the next few chapters – I'll be posting them in pairs so you won't be kept waiting :o)

**

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**

Alex's POV

We went to Jake's, grabbed a burger and the margarita he'd offered to buy me. Well actually I had a couple of margaritas and he had a beer. Now we're back at his apartment and I could cut the tension in the air between us with a knife. Strangely it's not a bad tension really, more a sense of expectancy, as if we both know that something important is going to happen tonight. We talked very little at the bar and what we did talk about was unimportant, simply filling silence once in a while.

Now we're in the hall of his apartment, he's locking the door and I've dropped my purse on the hall table. This was a familiar scene from about a month into our partnership up until two months ago. Over the three months in between I had found myself unusually comfortable in my partner's personal space. I slide my jacket off my shoulders and hang it on what had, during that time, become 'my' hook by his door. I can't help noticing that, even though I haven't been here since before the night we became lovers, the hook remains empty, as though he's been hoping I will once again make use of it. He hangs his own jacket up beside mine and our hands brush against each other, barely touching, sparks skitter along my nerves, a tingle running up my arm. I think for a second that I've managed to stifle the slight gasp that the contact causes, until I feel his fingers wrap around mine.

"You okay?" He sounds so worried that I can't seem to stop myself from turning to him and leaning against him.

He's turned towards me so I find my face buried in his chest and just the smell of him is enough to make my body shiver with suppressed desire. He drops my hand and wraps his arms around me, his hands slide up and down my spine in a gesture of comfort. Most men in this situation, especially having been kept at arms length for two months, would at least try to cop a feel, not my Bobby. There's nothing sexual about the way he's touching me, even if his touch is causing all kinds of sexual responses to flood my body.

I nod against his chest, drinking in his scent and trying to calm my body and my mind, both of which are rapidly approaching overload. I find myself wondering what on earth I was thinking, telling him we shouldn't even try to make a personal relationship work, when it's so obvious to me at this moment that I've never wanted, or needed, any man the way I do him. I feel his lips brush gently against my hair.

"How about you go get comfortable in the lounge and I'll get us something to drink?"

I nod again but I can't seem to step away from him. My hands are resting on his waist, under his suit jacket, and I can feel the heat of his skin through his shirt. He unwraps one arm from around my back and gently raises my chin so that I'm looking up into those gorgeous eyes of his. His emotions are written so clearly in his eyes that I actually tremble at their intensity. How has he managed to disguise the way he's been feeling for the past two months, I wonder. I know the answer; the same way I have, with great difficulty.

For a moment I think he's going to kiss me, the way he did that night in my kitchen, and my eyes close in anticipation. Then I feel is his lips against my forehead. He amazes me sometimes. I can feel the tremors running through his body and the way his breathing has quickened, yet still he's holding tight to his self-control, giving me the reassurance and comfort he senses I need whilst denying himself the opportunity to relieve his own desire. I know he can sense my arousal yet I also know he won't make any move to take advantage of this situation until he's sure I'm back to being comfortable in my own skin, something I haven't truly been throughout our last investigation. His lips trail softly across my brows, then down my temple until they're next to my ear.

"Alex, I don't want to rush this and we do need to talk this time. I'm going to the kitchen to get us some coffee and you are going to go and sit down. Okay?"

He punctuates his question with a gentle kiss on my cheek and I'm tempted, very tempted indeed, to turn my head slightly so that his lips brush against mine. That's all it would take, a slight adjustment to the angle of my head and I could undo all of his carefully held restraint. Instead I nod and kiss his cheek in return before I finally find my voice.

"Okay." It occurs to me that this is the first word I've spoken since we arrived at his place and my lips curve into a soft smile against his cheek.

I take a half step back from him, keeping my hands on his waist for a moment longer as I look up into his face. There's no doubt there, as his eyes scan my face, he knows that I want him as badly as he wants me, that I need his support just like he needs mine, that I am as deeply effected by his proximity as he is by my touch. There is a hint of concern in his eyes and by that I know he won't allow me to divert him away from the discussion we need to have. There's no hiding the desire in his eyes and I know that my own eyes are burning with the same fire.

What almost overwhelms me is the love I see so clearly, no one ever looked at me with so much unconditional love as he does. Whilst I know on some level this should scare me; partly because what we are about to do would be considered wrong by so many people but also because this man is capable of such intensity that being loved by him and loving him in return could so easily consume me; yet I feel no fear at all because I know he would rather die than hurt me. I don't need him to tell me that, it's there for me to see in his eyes.

I feel his fingers gently caress their way from my chin down to the pulse point at the base of my throat and he smiles softly as he registers my racing heartbeat. Then as he removes his hand from my skin, I let my hands slip from his waist and the physical contact is broken. So why is it I can still feel his touch? Why can I still feel the heat of his skin on the palms of my hands? I take a deep breath and step back, trying to regain control of my senses.

We both slip off our shoes and I head into the lounge, for once doing as he tells me, as he goes into the kitchen. I sit on his couch, listening to him making coffee and wondering how, exactly, I am supposed to broach the subject, or subjects as it will probably turn out to be knowing Bobby, that we need to discuss.

After a few minutes he appears bearing two steaming mugs of coffee, which he sets on the table in front of me.

"Is it okay if I sit here or would you rather I take the chair?" He waves a hand to indicate either the space next to me on the couch or the armchair nearest me.

There he goes again, being all considerate and, well, Bobby-ish. I mean, most men would have by-passed the lounge and the coffee, and been trying to get me into the bedroom if they were even half as sure of my physical response as I know he is.

"Here." I pat the empty space beside me. The last thing I need between us right now is space.

He sits down leaving just a small gap between us, turning so that he's facing me. He waits a moment, just looking at me before he begins to speak, his voice gentle and his tone concerned.

"Alex, this case, I know it got to you. It's not like you to personalise a case. I don't mean that you didn't do your …"

I cut him off. "I know you don't mean to say I didn't do my job or pull my weight. What you want to know is why it got to me so badly."

I can hear the pain in my voice and, somehow, it surprises me. I thought I was over this, I thought I'd left it behind years ago. Nobody in my family knows about it, I never mentioned it to Joe. The only people who are aware of this particular episode in my life are the doctor I saw at the time and my college roommate, Karen, who I haven't seen in years.

He nods and gently takes one of my hands between the both of his. "Only if you feel you can tell me, Alex. I can make a guess, I think I know you well enough that I've got a good idea of the basics …"

"I figured you might have guessed that at some point I'd been pregnant." The hitch in my voice and the sharp sting of tears in my eyes is unexpected to say the least. I take a deep breath and force the tears to remain behind my now closed eyelids.

He gently squeezes my hand. "Did you …?"

The rest of his question remains unspoken, as I shake my head and open my eyes so that I can see his reaction. I know he's not going to like the story I'm about to tell him but I can't be certain of how he will react. Knowing Bobby there will certainly be sympathy and understanding but I'm betting on a degree of anger, although probably not aimed at me, what I'm fearful of is the possibility of disgust or disappointment.

I place the tips of my fingers against his lips to ensure his silence. I need to get through this without interruptions. I take another deep breath, swallow the lump in my throat and begin.

"It really was dumb, thinking about it. A college party, everyone drinking, having a good time. Just the kind of thing my father spent months warning me about every chance he got before he agreed to let me live on campus. I woke up the next morning in one of the bedrooms of the house the party was held in. The guy I'd gone to the party with was next to me in the bed. We'd been seeing each other for a few weeks but we weren't serious and I'd made it clear to him that I wasn't ready to take the 'next step' in the relationship, if you could even call it that."

I take my hand away from his mouth to grab my coffee, my mouth suddenly parched, even as I'm having trouble keeping my eyes from being anything but dry. After a couple of sips I set the mug back down on the table and place my hand on top if his, which are still wrapped around my other hand.

"Anyway, I went ballistic. It wasn't difficult to figure out what had happened. I'd had enough to drink that he'd managed to get me upstairs and take things 'to the next level' despite what I'd said to him before then. He actually laughed. Can you believe that? He laughed and said that … that maybe if I hadn't been such an ice-queen he wouldn't have needed to get me passed out drunk before he could fuck me."

There's no stopping the tears now as they start to run down my cheeks. There's no stopping the words either, as they continue to roll out of my mouth. Bobby sits silent and still, taking in my words, his eyes never leaving my face.

"Needless to say I didn't see him again after that. A couple of weeks later I realised I was late. The bastard hadn't even bothered to use a condom it seems. I went to the campus medical surgery and got a pregnancy test done. It was positive. The doctor discussed the options when she gave me the results. Adoption, abortion, keep the baby. Would the father take responsibility? She actually asked me that. I laughed in her face when she asked me."

I raise my free hand to swipe at the tears on my cheeks. Bobby raises one hand, cupping my face tenderly as he brushes away tears from one cheek. He remains silent and I continue what I considered to be my sordid tale.

"You know I was raised Catholic. If I'd gone home and told my folks they'd have expected me to marry the jerk and have the baby. That's if the jerk would have even considered it. Not that I would have. I saw it as I had two options. Give up the baby for adoption or terminate the pregnancy. Adoption would have meant trying to hide the pregnancy from my family. I knew I wouldn't be able to do that. Abortion was the only way I could see out of the mess. I went back to see the doctor and make the arrangements."

I stop for a moment, another deep breath, another swallow of coffee and I continue.

"Three days before I was due to go to the clinic I woke up bleeding. I rushed to the campus surgery in a panic. I knew I'd miscarried. It wasn't until that moment, when I woke up and knew that something was wrong that I realised I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't kill a child, my child. It didn't matter who the father was, how it had happened."

I'm really crying now, eyes shut tight, and my words are coming in broken gasps between sobs. I feel Bobby's arms go around me and pull me to him. I bury my face in his chest.

"Of course, by then it didn't make any difference. I'd killed her anyway. I dreamed the night before the miscarriage that I had a little girl, all blonde curls and eyes just like mine. So that's how I think of the baby, as her, not it. I killed her. I was willing to go to a clinic and dispose of her like some sort of minor inconvenience. So she died inside me instead. I never got the chance to change my mind. I never got the chance to tell her I was sorry I ever even thought of doing that to her."

"I know it doesn't make sense to feel that way. Just like it doesn't make sense that I still feel so strongly that abortion should be an option. If I'd still been pregnant the day I was due to go to the clinic I wouldn't have been able to go through with it anyway. But that would have been my choice. As it was, I didn't have any choice at all. I didn't choose to sleep with him. I didn't choose who I lost my virginity to. I didn't choose to kill my baby but I still did."

More than ten years of anger, guilt and grief wash over me, as my partner holds me in his arms, rocking me gently and never saying a word. I can feel the tension in his body and I wonder for a moment if he will push me away as I slip my arms around him. Instead he holds me tighter, one hand going to the back of my head. My eyes are still closed tight as I feel his lips on my forehead, then down, kissing tears from my cheeks as he did once before on 'that' night. Those were tears brought on by joy the like of which I'd never known before, these are tears of pain and rage, long suppressed. It makes no difference to him, it seems, as his lips softly work their way over the planes of my face.

**

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**A/N: Just for clarification purposes – 'my' Eames was born in 1969 – she has to be young enough to have lots of little Goren-Eames babies in the future. I figure the 'unfortunate incident' that occurred while she was at college would have been when she was around 19 – so that would be 1988ish – roughly 13 years ago in line with the 'date' of this story.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: As promised – here's Bobby's side of what's going on.

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Bobby's POV

I lock the door behind us as we enter my apartment. I hear her put her purse down on the table and the soft rustle of fabric as she starts to remove her jacket. Until that night two months ago this was something comfortable and familiar. Now the air around me seems too thick, the sense of anticipation is heavy and I wonder if we'll actually get as far as talking. I hope we do because I can't help feeling there's a lot we need to talk about, not least of which is 'that' night. The night that I can't forget about no matter how many times I tell myself I have to.

It was a little scary to me at first how easily I'd gotten used to her being here during our partnership. I've never had a partner who I would allow into my home before. I always kept my private and professional lives carefully separated. Not that I've never had any friends at all on the force, I simply never brought them here. A few drinks after shift, a meal every once in a while were fine, but this place, this has been my sanctuary if you like, the place I can come back to to escape the madness of the job we do.

With her it was different. About five weeks into our partnership she suggested that rather than working late at the office we grab the files, head to my place, order takeout and at least get to finish the work somewhere more comfortable. When I'd stutteringly asked 'Why my place?', she'd pointed out, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, that Brooklyn is closer to Manhattan that Rockaway is. I couldn't argue with her logic or her geography, I'm not even sure I wanted to really. So we'd ended up at my apartment, eating Chinese food and going over witness statements while we listened to music. After that first night it became quite a regular occurrence. If we'd been out working someplace nearer to her house, and it was late in the day, we'd head there instead, ring into the office to check for messages and then go over the information we'd gathered during the day's investigation.

I've missed that these last two months. Hell, I've missed her. Only seeing her 'professionally' has been difficult, at times almost impssible. No late night drinks before crashing on her couch or saying goodnight as she heads to the spare room in my apartment that had become unofficially hers. No good-natured arguments over whose turn it is to choose the food, we don't do that when we order takeout to be delivered to the squad room, it doesn't feel right somehow. We've still spoken on the phone late at night when one of us has suddenly come up with an idea on the cases we've been working but it's not the same as actually seeing her, actually being with her.

I turn around and shuck off my jacket, reaching for the hook beside the one that has been empty for two months, waiting for her to return and make use of it. The backs of our hands brush against each other and I feel a jolt of excitement go through me as the almost non-existent contact causes her to gasp. I can't stand not to touch her for even a second longer, so I let go of my jacket and wrap my fingers around hers.

"You okay?" I hope she can't hear how worried I am about how tonight is going to end in my voice, but somehow I doubt that she's missed it. Eames rarely misses anything.

I'm facing her as I ask my question and suddenly she turns towards me, takes the single step that separates us and presses herself against me and I finally get to do what I've been longing to throughout this case. I wrap my arms around her and softly stroke her back as I feel her nod her head. I feel the shiver that runs through her as her hands come to rest on my waist. My own body trembles in response to even this slight, totally safe, contact. She must be aware of the effect she has on me. I can't stop myself as I bow my head to bring my lips down against the top of her head, but I manage to restrict myself to brushing them lightly against her hair.

I know I need to let her go, break this physical contact. I wish it was as easy as it sounds.

"How about you go get comfortable in the lounge and I'll get us something to drink?" I manage to keep my voice almost level this time.

She nods again but doesn't make any move away from me and I can't seem to release her from the circle of my arms. I need to see her face, so I bring one hand up to her chin, using just the tips of my fingers to raise it so that I can look at her properly.

Her soul is laid bare in her eyes and I let my barriers fall, a riot of emotions are unleashed as I look into her beautiful eyes.

I can see there now the pain that she's been fighting so hard to hide from everyone these past few weeks. It's deep and old. I feel a little relief as I realise that the pain isn't new and it hits me that, somewhere in the back of my mind, I've been fearing that her decision had been a recent one, one that might even have involved me and my actions two months ago. I'm not sure how I would have handled that, or even whether I would have been able to.

Her pain though is not the only thing I can read so clearly. There's so much love there, along with her desire and need for me. It takes a moment for me to process the realisation that this woman, so strong and independent, actually needs me. That alone shakes me to my core, I've never seen anyone look at me like she is doing at this moment, as if I am actually a necessity in their life. I'm used to women looking at me with desire, lust even. There have been girlfriends in the past who spoke words of love and need, yet they never stayed long once they realised I was not about to change who I was in order to keep them, but there was never anything close to the expression in her eyes as they shine up at me.

There's acceptance, of me just as I am, no changes needed. She knows many of my quirks by now, the physical and mental 'ticks' that so many find irritating and weird have become to her simply a part of who I am. I can sense that she feels no wish to rewrite my personality or my behaviour, to 'normalise' me, as so many past lovers have seemed to want to do. There's another layer to the acceptance though. Her acceptance of the situation we find ourselves in. She's willing to give me, give us, a chance and as that realisation dawns I find myself drawn down to kiss her, overwhelmed by the strength it must have taken her, has it has me, to suppress so much raw emotion all this time.

I stop myself short, pressing my lips to her forehead instead of completing the distance to her mouth. I know if I taste her lips at this moment there's no hope for me. If I give in to that small temptation I won't be able to keep control of my own, very physical, need for her. Instead I settle for the feel of her soft skin against my lips as I taste my way across her brows, the edge of her cheek, finally reaching her ear.

Again I have to force myself to stop. I know her eyes are closed, I can sense her anticipation but I also sense her trepidation. She knows as well as I do that, as much as this is going to hurt, we need to address the pain that has been raked to the surface of her soul by our investigation. Easy as it would be to rebury the pain beneath desire and lust and want, I know I cannot allow either one of us to do that because I know she needs to work through this, whatever it is. I restraint myself once more and I'm thoroughly surprised at how calm my voice sounds as I speak softly into the ear that is so close my lips almost brush against it as I speak.

"Alex, I don't want to rush this and we do need to talk this time. I'm going to the kitchen to get us some coffee and you are going to go and sit down. Okay?"

I feel the slight twitch of her head as I kiss her cheek and I know she's suppressed the same temptation I have. It would be so easy, too easy, we never seem to take the easy route.

"Okay." I feel her smile as she kisses my cheek in return.

She steps back but I can't take my eyes off her face. My defences are still down and I hope she can read in my eyes the love and acceptance I have read in hers returned there. I'm not even conscious of the movement of my hand until I feel the almost frantic beat of her pulse beneath my fingertips. I can't help but smile at the knowledge that she is just as deeply effected by this as I am.

I force my fingers away from her skin, fighting every impulse within me as I do so. Her tiny hands fall from my waist and I wonder how such small hands can spread so much fire throughout my body by the simple action of resting against the fabric of my shirt. I'm grateful to her when she steps back because I know I couldn't bring myself to put any distance between us.

Suddenly we're both in motion again, slipping off our shoes and turning to head in different directions. I make the coffee on autopilot, trying to regain control of my body whilst I do so. I know trying to control my emotions at this moment it next to useless and my mind is spinning almost completely out of my control. I'm barely aware of what I'm doing until I find myself back in her presence, placing the coffees on the table in front of where she's sitting on my couch.

"Is it okay if I sit here or would you rather I take the chair?" I want to sit down beside her but I need to allow her some control of this situation.

"Here." Relief floods my body as she pats the seat beside her and I sit down, turned slightly towards her, wanting to be able to see her face, read her eyes, in the moments ahead.

"Alex, this case, I know it got to you. It's not like you to personalise a case. I don't mean that you didn't do your …" Much to my continuing relief I don't get to finish what I'm trying to say.

"I know you don't mean to say I didn't do my job or pull my weight. What you want to know is why it got to me so badly." Either I've become more obvious than I used to be or this woman really can read my mind.

I nod and reach for her, taking one tiny hand between my two seemingly gigantic ones. The pain in her voice is raw and as she finishes speaking I hear a hint of surprise, as though she weren't expecting to feel this so deeply now as she may have done in the past.

"Only if you feel you can tell me, Alex. I can make a guess, I think I know you well enough that I've got a good idea of the basics …" Once again, she cuts me off.

"I figured you might have guessed that at some point I'd been pregnant." I hate the pain that causes the catch in her voice and the fact that she's closed her eyes, as if trying to force back tears.

I gently squeeze her hand. "Did you …?"

She shakes her head and opens her eyes, the hand I'm not holding presses lightly against my mouth, an entreaty against further interruptions. I sit in silence as she recounts her story, taking in details and forcing myself to remain still. The anger I feel at the man responsible for her long ago mistreatment is so strong that it takes all my willpower to remain seated, rather than pacing the room or, better yet, giving in to the impulse to hit something. I can't move as tears begin to seep from her eyes, if I do I'm uncertain of what I will actually do and I don't want her to mistake the anger of my response as being directed at her. I can't even drag my eyes away from her face.

It isn't until she raises her hand from on top of my own that I feel free to move. Cupping her face as I brush at the tears on one cheek, as she brushes them from the other. I remain silent, not daring to interrupt her, knowing she would hear my anguish for her younger self in my voice if I speak now. The last barriers holding back her grief and pain shatter, as she tells me of losing her child, and I have to hold her, it's no longer optional. If I don't hold her, try to comfort her, as she tears open this long scarred-over wound, I know I will explode.

Her eyes are tightly closed, sobs are wracking her body, her voice is breaking and tears are pouring down her face, too quickly for me to brush away now. I slide closer as I wrap my arms around her and pull her body against mine. She snuggles her face into the front of my shirt, soaking it with her tears and I don't care, just so long as she'll let me offer her some measure of comfort, what little it must be to her. I'm rocking her gently, hoping she can still feel my love for her through the thick curtain of her pain and grief.

It is all I can do not to howl with outrage as the implication of what she's saying washes over me. His actions were bad enough but the thought of that being her first time is almost unbearable. I feel her hesitance as her arms finally slip around me, her fingers grasping at the fabric of my shirt. My own arms tighten around her, every inch of me wanting to keep her safe, find some way of expunging this pain from her soul. I hope my love for her can someday help to heal the grief she has carried in her heart for so long, apparently in silence.

I gently kiss her forehead again and find myself unable to break the contact as my lips trail down her face, kissing away tears that she has held back for so many years. She hasn't said exactly when this happened but it must be at least twelve years ago. How has she managed to bear this burden, hiding it from her family, smiling happily at the news of each impending niece and nephew? I knew my Alex was strong but this sort of strength is beyond my comprehension. I continue kissing her face even after the tears stop falling and her breathing levels back towards normal. I don't speak, I don't have the words at this moment, I'm not even sure there are words that could possibly begin to express the depth of my love and respect for her, knowing what she's been through. I'm certain there are no words that could express the depth of my contempt and loathing for the man who put her through this.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading this – sorry if anyone found it too angsty - I promise the next chapters will be less so.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: You'll be pleased to hear (well some of you will be) that there's less angst in this chapter.

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Alex's POV

'_Is it me or is it really warm in here this morning?_' I think as I start to come out of a deep sleep. A very welcome deep sleep, I haven't slept properly since we caught the Cavella case. Well no, really I haven't been sleeping all that well for about two months now.

As I slowly emerge into consciousness I realise I'm still dressed, I'm not in my own bed and I'm not alone. The first clues hit me before I open my eyes. I can feel my cloths tangled at various points on my body and the vague light I can sense even through my closed eyelids is coming from the wrong direction. Most importantly, there's the gentle pressure of another body wrapped around mine and that body smells extremely familiar. Actually the body feels familiar as well although the sensation of him being wrapped around me like this, when we're both fully clothed, is definitely odd even if the position feels unbelievably comfortable. I squirm slightly as I recall waking up in similar circumstances in my own bed two months ago, only that time we were both naked.

I slowly open my eyes and confirm my suspicions. I'm in Bobby's bed, with my head lying on one of his arms. My back is pressed against his chest and our legs are tangled together. The arm I'm resting my head on has my hands wrapped firmly around it, as though I've been afraid in the night that he might try to leave me. His other arm is wrapped around my waist, keeping me safely cocooned against him. I have to admit waking up with Bobby Goren wrapped around me is certainly one of the most pleasant experiences of my life. I also have to admit it was even better last time, when I could feel his skin pressed against mine.

I feel myself begin to tense as I remember, at least in part, how we ended up like this. I remember telling Bobby about my teenage pregnancy, how it happened and the loss of my child. I remember him holding me as I cried tears of anger and pain that I'd held inside for so long. Recalling his reaction, silently comforting me and kissing away those tears, almost brings me back to the brink of tears once more. I suppress the impulse to cry and a shudder runs through my body in response. His arm tightens around me and I realise he's awake.

"Bobby?" There's so much we didn't talk about last night and as I speak his name I realise my voice is still thick with emotion.

"I'm right here." There's no hint of sleepiness in his voice as he replies to me, his voice soft and full of tenderness.

I wonder for a moment how long he's been awake, laying there watching me sleep. I decide I rather like the idea of him holding me like that, it's actually rather comforting. My reaction surprises me, usually that sort of thing would creep me out a little, make me feel vulnerable but not when it's him doing it.

"How did we end up in here?" That part of last night I don't remember.

The last I can recall we were sitting on his couch, his arms wrapped around me and me holding on to him as if he were the only solid thing in the world. I'd stopped crying by then but he still hadn't spoken, as if he knew I needed his silence more than any words he could possibly have said. I just needed him to hold me and I was grateful that he realised that, rather than trying to analyse what I had told him. I remember feeling exhausted, as it recounting the occurrences of thirteen years ago had sapped all the strength from my body. Oh God, don't tell me I fell asleep on him, not after pouring all that out onto him.

"You kinda dozed off, so I carried you through here." There's no judgement in his voice, no disappointment. "I didn't want to leave you alone, so I decided to sleep in here with you. I hope you don't mind?"

'_What kind of question is that?_' my inner voice snarks at him. "I don't mind. I kinda like waking up with you."

Oh no, I did not just say that. I can just picture the half smile that has to have come to his mouth at my inadvertent admission. '_Note to self – remember not to talk to Bobby while still half-asleep before having coffee – especially when in an already compromising position._' The snark-monster in my head comments.

"I kinda like waking up with you as well." I feel his lips gently caress my cheek. "Now that you're awake …"

I'm expecting him to suggest that we continue last night's conversation.

"… how about I put on a pot of coffee, while you go grab a shower? You've still got some stuff here."

Coffee? Shower? No I don't want to give up the warm, comfortable cocoon of his limbs just yet.

"Would you …" How do I ask this without sounding completely needy and pathetic? Oh, hell, just ask. "Would you mind if we just stayed like this a little longer? I mean, if you don't have any plans for the day, and as we don't have to go into work?" My voice is, at least, calm and sounds like me.

"The only plan I have for today is to spend it with you. If that's okay?" There's just a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as if he thinks I might be about to rebuild the wall I've put between us recently and that is now little more than a pile of rubble.

"I like that idea." I snuggle my back more firmly against his chest and sigh as the fingers that lay against my stomach start to gently caress me.

I don't think he's even aware of what he's doing as his fingers softly stroke me through the fabric of the blouse I'm still wearing. I do know that I don't want him to stop, not just because it feels so good, so right somehow. It's mainly because it makes me feel safe, loved, accepted; despite everything I told him last night.

It must be a good ten minutes before either of us speaks again.

"Alex?" His voice is tentative, I wonder if he thinks I've gone back to sleep?

"Hmmm?" I can't be bothered to speak, this position is very … now what's the right word, ah yes there it is … lulling.

"I really need to use the bathroom. I'm gonna need my arm back." He kisses my cheek again as he finishes speaking.

I realise that I've still got both my hands wrapped around his arm that is underneath my head. I unlock my fingers from around his arm and shift my head over to the pillow as he begins to untangle his limbs from mine.

I roll over and watch him as he walks across to his bathroom. How does he manage to look so delicious even when he's wearing the rumpled clothes he's slept in all night? He turns slightly as he reaches the door and smiles at me. I feel my heart and stomach flutter, as my lips return his smile. Then he steps through the door and closes it behind him.

I flop onto my back, staring at his ceiling for a moment as my mind finally kicks into gear and starts to take an automatic inventory of what clothing I might have left at his apartment. I'm pretty sure there's a pair of jeans and at least a couple of tops, plus some underwear upstairs in the room I've used in the past when I've stayed here. I know there's definitely one change of work clothes but I'd rather not wear those today, if I'm lucky I'll be needing them tomorrow morning.

I slip from beneath the covers that smell intoxicatingly of my partner and go over to the door that currently separates us. Knocking gently, to get his attention above the water I can hear running, I let him know what I'm doing.

"I'm gonna go upstairs and grab that shower you suggested. I'll put the coffee on while I'm going. Okay?" How does my voice manage to sound so normal, as if this is an everyday occurrence?

"Okay." From the slightly mumbled reply I'd guess he's brushing his teeth.

* * *

I'm sitting at Bobby's kitchen table, watching as he makes pancakes and chops fruit to go with them. I'd forgotten, or tried hard to forget, how comfortable it feels to sit here and watch him prepare breakfast. We tend to grab something quick when we're heading into work but on those rare occasions (okay not that rare – I think it happened five times in the three months I was a 'regular' guest in his home) when I've woken here on a work-free, weekend morning in the past he's always insisted on making a 'proper' breakfast. Sometimes it would pancakes or waffles, other times bacon and eggs, on one occasion I seem to recall bacon, eggs, hash browns, waffles, the whole shebang.

The first time he insisted of feeding me like this I accused him of trying to fatten me up. I did not make that mistake a second time. He'd stepped around the table to get a better look at me, scanning me from head to toes and back again, before quirking an eyebrow at me and commenting that there was nothing wrong with my figure so far as he could see. I'd almost died of embarrassment but I hadn't let it show. He had the ability to reduce me to the level of a befuddled teenager even back then.

I snap out of my thoughts as he puts a plate down in front of me. He sits down next to me, rather than opposite me as he has on previous occasions when we've eaten together at this table, and the warmth of his leg as it brushes against my knee is ridiculously distracting. Quite how I've managed to keep a handle on things between us at work over the past couple of months I'll never know. I just hope we can adjust to the changes that the current shift in our relationship will obviously require.

We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. I can feel the weight of the impending conversation weighing on me, so I decide to take the necessary first step.

"Bobby, about last night …" I am amazed at how composed I sound, considering the several million butterflies currently taking flight in my stomach.

"You want to know what I think about what you told me." It's not a question.

I nod in response and sigh. Meeting his eyes I see reflection of my own pain there and my guilt returns. How could I have burdened this man, who carries so many burdens already? I'm sure even his broad shoulders can only take so much weight.

He straightens in his chair, putting his fork down beside his plate and turns slightly to give me his full attention.

"I think it took a great deal of courage to go through what you did and come out of the other side the person you are." He doesn't break eye contact as his hand finds mine on the table and he threads his fingers through my own. "You've had to deal with this alone for what, twelve years?"

My voice is almost a whisper as I correct him. "Thirteen."

"Christ, Alex, you were what, nineteen. Still little more than a child yourself. To deal with being raped, losing your virginity against your will, then discovering you were pregnant. Then to have to try and make that kind of decision without the help of your family. I'm not sure how any woman can deal with that decision but at that age and alone. Worse still, under those circumstances. I wish I could have been around to help you, but that's crazy, isn't it?"

I smile softly at that, Bobby was in the army when I was at college. He was probably in some other country at the time.

That Bobby would consider a drunken teenager getting his girlfriend even more drunk and taking advantage of her, as being rape hadn't occurred to me. I never really considered that the circumstances of that night were rape. I suppose really I should have. I've buried the memory so deep and for so long that I hadn't thought about the conception so much as I had the pain of the miscarriage. That my partner shows no disgust or pity as he speaks, purely concern and understanding, especially given his view of that night's events, means a great deal to me. That this man, who means so much to me, refuses to see me as a victim is very important to me.

"Not crazy, just pretty unlikely." I squeeze my fingers between his, silently urging him to go on.

He nods, squeezes my hand in turn and continues. "I'm sorry you're first time was like that. Any man who would treat a woman that way deserves nothing but contempt and that doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about the man who did that to you."

I drop my eyes from his. I wasn't sure if I'd actually mentioned that night at the party being my first time but obviously I did. He lets me get away with hiding my eyes as he continues to speak.

"I'm so sorry, Alex, that you lost her like that. That you didn't get the chance to change your mind properly. That so many decisions were taken from you in so little time. I know that doesn't really help any but I am sorry." The sadness in his voice is clear, yet it is tinged with concern for me.

He falls silent for a moment and I raise my eyes to his once more, searching for some hint of reproach there. I find none. Instead there is a deep and profound respect, an acknowledgement of the reality of the pain I have carried within me for so long. There is nothing there that doesn't offer me support, love, some relief from my burden. Even the sorrow I see there is for me, for my child, not for any loss he may have suffered if I have somehow tarnished his perception of who I am.

"I'm glad you managed to come through it. That you managed to survive to become the woman you are. I can't begin to imagine how it was for you then or how it's been for you in the years in between. I wouldn't presume to even try. I don't think any man, especially one who has never been a father, can truly understand that kind of loss. It makes me feel incredibly proud of you. That you managed, somehow, to carry such a burden for so many years without it making you bitter. Without becoming resentful of others' happiness in their own children. To still be able to take joy in your family's children as you so obviously do. I don't know if this sounds crass or phoney but it's how I feel. I'm honoured that you count me a good enough friend to be able to confide in me about this."

Dropping his eyes from mine, he raises our joined hands and kisses each of my fingers softly, barely touching his lips against my skin. The last few bricks of my defences crumble to dust under the weight of his earnest declarations and the lightness of his kisses. I feel a stirring within me that I no longer wish to deny.

"Bobby." His name passes my lips in a breathless gasp and his eyes immediately lock with my own.

I can see his passion, carefully held in check, in those wonderfully dark eyes of his and I know that what I am about to ask of him will not be rejected. That he will not find fault with my need for him.

"Alex?" My name passes his lips as a question. Even though he knows what it is I need from him now, he will wait for me to ask him. He will not deny me my right to choose, especially at this moment, with this new knowledge he has of my past.

"Make love to me. Please, Bobby." I'm surprised at the raw desire in my voice, even though I can feel it pulsing through my veins.

He doesn't say another word as he stands, drawing me slowly from my chair by our joined hands, and leads me towards his bedroom.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: Back into Bobby's head again, now.

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Bobby's POV

I don't believe there can be anything more wonderful than the sensation of waking with Alex Eames in my arms. She looks so peaceful at this moment and after the emotional upheaval she went through last night I am profoundly grateful for that peace.

Both times I've shared a bed with this woman I've woken to find myself almost completely entangle with her. It's strange really, most of my past lovers have moved away from me as we've slept, complaining that I throw off enough heat to be used as a furnace. I've always dislike that particular aspect of my sexual relationships, I suppose on some level I crave the close physical contact I was denied as a child and I've often found myself rejected once my lover's physical needs have been sated. My body heat doesn't seem to bother Eames though, when I shift a little her slight form presses back more firmly into me, seemingly seeking my warmth.

I decide I can manage to stay in this position a little longer, especially if it means I get to watch her whilst she sleeps. I shift my head so that I can see her face. The frown she so often seems to wear during our working hours is gone now and, as my body settles back against hers, her lips curve into a soft smile and an almost inaudible sigh of what sounds a lot like contentment escapes her. Who would have believed that Alex Eames, straight-arrow-extraordinaire, would ever be content to be held by me, the departmental nutcase? More importantly who would ever have thought for even a second that this beautiful, intelligent woman, would ever allow someone as messed up as me; with my fragmented family, my sick mother, my authority issues and lack of ability to maintain a single solid intimate relationship with the opposite sex; to get anywhere near her, much less confide what must have been one of the greatest secrets of her life to me.

To be able to count myself her friend and partner should be enough for me. I know it should. Yet I still want her to acknowledge me as her lover. I know we can't be 'open' about it. That because of the regulations we'd have to keep it quiet and 'under the radar' so to speak, but we could make this work. She trusts me, she must to have told me what she did last night. I know it wasn't easy for her and I will never reveal to anyone what has been said between us. Surely, if she can trust me with this, trust me with her life every day when we're doing our jobs, surely, she can trust me to be discrete about the extent of our personal relationship.

I continue to watch her sleeping, noting the change in her breathing, the slight wriggle of her body, as she begins to wake up. I feel her body start to tense. I wonder if it's because she's realised she's with me again or because she's recalled last night's conversation. I feel her shudder at the same moment I hear the wet swallow coming from her throat and I realise she's remembered last night and what she told me. My arms tighten reflexively, as if I can somehow protect her from the pain of her memories.

"Bobby?" She sounds almost ready to cry again and I try my best to put some reassurance into my tone as I reply.

"I'm right here."

"How did we end up in here?" She sounds slightly confused now, I don't suppose I should be surprised, really.

"You kinda dozed off, so I carried you through here. I didn't want to leave you alone, so I decided to sleep in here with you. I hope you don't mind?" Do I really sound that calm? I certainly don't feel it.

"I don't mind. I kinda like waking up with you." Her voice is still sleepy, even through the repressed tears I know she's working hard to hold back.

"I kinda like waking up with you as well." I manage to keep the burst of excitement I feel at her response out of my voice and lean over to I kiss her cheek. "Now that you're awake how about I put on a pot of coffee, while you go grab a shower? You've still got some stuff here."

"Would you …" Her voice is calmer now, more like her usual self, and for a moment I'm afraid she's going to ask me to let go of her. "Would you mind if we just stayed like this a little longer? I mean, if you don't have any plans for the day, and as we don't have to go into work?"

"The only plan I have for today is to spend it with you. If that's okay?" I know I sound hesitant but I'm not sure of the reception this suggestion will get.

"I like that idea." She presses her back more closely against my body, her hands continuing to grip my arm as she snuggles down comfortably again.

I relax against her, simply enjoying the fact that she's content, for the time being at least, to let me hold her like this. After a few minutes I realise that the hand that rests against her stomach is stroking circles against the fabric of her blouse. I hear the same contented sigh that escaped her earlier and allow my fingers to continue their movements.

It must be a good ten minutes before either of us speaks again.

"Alex?" I don't want to break this wonderful spell but nature will have her way.

"Hmmm?" She sounds as if she could happily fall asleep again.

"I really need to use the bathroom. I'm gonna need my arm back." I can't resist the urge to brush my lips against her cheek.

Her fingers unwrap themselves from around my arm and her head moves to rest on my pillow, as I disentangle myself from around her and climb out of bed. As I walk across the room I hear her moving in the bed behind me and I feel her eyes on my back. I guess I'm just not in the kind of mood to resist impulses this morning. I half turn and smile at her, simply happy at the sight of her laying in my bed. My heart does a flip as she smiles back.

Once I'm safely in the bathroom with the door closed I take a moment to lean against the wall and gather myself. I know there's still a great deal to talk through. I also know it's probably not going to be easy for either of us. We don't usually do the big emotional stuff, the main case in point being the events of two months ago. I simply let her tell me what she felt she needed from me and then did as she asked. Not even any real attempt at persuading her to change her mind even though I was desperate to do so.

I relieve the tension in my bladder, then figure I might as well brush my teeth whilst I'm in here. I'm buying myself a little time without the distraction of having Alex physically in front of me. My mind is still going over the events she recounted to me last night before she fell asleep in my arms, seemingly exhausted by the emotional onslaught. I almost jump out of my skin when she knocks at the bathroom door.

"I'm gonna go upstairs and grab that shower you suggested. I'll put the coffee on while I'm going. Okay?" How does she manage to sound so normal, as if this is just another one of her overnight stays after we've had too much to drink for her to drive home.

"Okay." I manage to mutter around a mouthful of toothpaste.

I decide I may as well grab a shower while she's upstairs, hoping the warm water will relieve some of the tension in my body. Meanwhile my mind continues to whirl, trying to process the events of this morning, last night, two months ago and, most importantly right now, over ten years ago.

* * *

I've always enjoyed cooking, luckily. I learned out of necessity when I was growing up. My mom wasn't always fit to cook meals and the danger of her cutting or burning herself was always present if she became suddenly distracted by 'them'. From Alex's earliest visits to my home I found myself taking a particular pleasure in cooking for her. This morning, however, I'm having difficulty with even the simple meal that I'm preparing. I can feel her eyes on me as I flip pancakes and chop fruit. It's all I can do to keep my concentration on the task at hand rather than simply standing here and staring at her. I somehow manage to get the food onto the plates without burning anything or slicing my fingers instead of the melon.

I take our plates to the table and sit down beside Alex, not wanting any more space between us than there has to be. The gentle brush of her knee against the side of my leg is almost enough to make me regret my decision not to sit in my usual seat opposite her. Even the vaguest physical contact with her seems to be sending my body off on its own little jaunt down memory lane to our first night together and how it felt to be with her in what most people would consider to be the most intimate way possible. For the first time in my adult life I feel as if I'm with someone who truly understands me. I don't want to lose her, not as my partner, not as my friend, not as my lover.

We sit quietly, eating, drinking juice and coffee. I'm enjoying just being here with her like this again. I hope she's feeling the same. There's a slight shift in the atmosphere around us and I see her straighten her shoulders, almost imperceptibly.

"Bobby, about last night …" I wonder if she feels as calm as she sounds.

"You want to know what I think about what you told me." I certainly don't feel anywhere near as calm as I sound.

She nods and sighs, allowing her eyes to meet mine. I can see the pain returning, along with her guilt. I wish there were some easy way to erase those emotions from her mind and leave behind better memories than the ones that I know currently occupy her thoughts.

I straighten in my chair, setting my fork down and turn to give her my full attention.

"I think it took a great deal of courage to go through what you did and come out of the other side the person you are." I can't possibly tear my eyes away from hers but I find her hand, seemingly by instinct, and thread out fingers together. "You've had to deal with this alone for what, twelve years?"

"Thirteen." I barely hear her whispered response.

I know I don't do a very good job of hiding what I'm feeling as I let my thoughts and feelings have full rein. I don't ever recall laying out so clearly to another human being how I feel about something so deeply personal to them. Except for one, very short, retort to one of the rhetorical questions I set before her, she allows me to get through what I need to say to her. She squeezes my fingers occasionally, as if to tell me it's okay to continue.

I look at her the entire time I'm talking, even when she drops her eyes from mine. She doesn't break eye contact for long. When her eyes return to mine I see that although the pain is still there it seems to have lessened, the guilt seems to have fled entirely. I know it can't be this simple. That it will take a great deal more from both of us to get through this is beyond doubt. I can only hope that she will continue to let me be here for her, as I finally finish saying what I need to say and drop my eyes from hers.

"Bobby." My eyes shift back to hers and I see a maelstrom there but the way she just said my name, soft and almost breathless, reminds me of how she sounded when we made love and I can't help the heat that is now coursing through me.

"Alex?" I can't push her, not before this and certainly not now.

"Make love to me. Please, Bobby." There's no mistaking the desire in her voice and I feel no hesitation as I stand. I bring her with me, our hands still joined, and lead her back to the room we spent last night in.

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A/N: Phew – four chapters in under 24 hours – not bad. Now if only I could get my muse to work half as hard on 'Sammi's Daddy' I'd be really pleased with myself ;o) LOL


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: Warning: explicit content in this chapter – and probably the next several after this – don't like:don't read (yeah right, like that's gonna happen ;o) LOL)

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Alex's POV

I can't believe I actually said that to him. Who do I think I am, the heroine in a dumb book? I mean, 'Make love to me. Please, Bobby.' Not that my partner seems to object to my sudden slip into some weird alternative reality based on some stupid Hallmark Romance novel.

We're back in his bedroom and talking isn't really an option any more because our mouths are far too busy for such mundane pastimes as speech. God, he tastes good. I feel how I imagine a person would feel after three days in the desert without water and then there's a jug of ice-cold, crystal clear water in front of them. This is the first time I've kissed him since the first night we were together. How on earth could I have been so stubborn? The sensations caused by his lips and tongue as he explores my mouth are just as good as they were the last time, and so much better than in the dreams I've had of him during the last two months.

I want to touch his skin, so I slip one hand beneath the t-shirt he's wearing. I can feel his abdominal muscles quiver under my fingers as I run them across his stomach. Oh my God, he just growled into my mouth, do I really affect him that much. I don't think I've ever known a man to react like this to me before. His hands seem to be everywhere at once, sliding my clothes off of me, caressing my skin as he uncovers it, not only with is hands but with his lips and tongue.

Was that me? I don't whimper, I never allow myself to sound so desperate. Yes that is me, whimpering as I virtually tear the clothes off of him. My hands and mouth can't seem to get enough of touching and tasting his flesh. I'm vaguely aware of him lifting me and then his mouth is on mine again. The firm caress of his lips as he parts my own, then the strong stroke of his tongue as he twines it around mine. Jesus, is it possible to fall in love with a tongue because I think I have, I love the taste of it in my mouth, the feel of it on my skin. I'm sucking on his tongue and wrapping my own tongue around it and in some dark little corner of my mind I'm imagining what it would be like to do this to another part of his body. Another little corner of my brain is imagining what wonders his tongue could perform to another part of my own body. I know I'm becoming short of breath but I don't want to let go of his tongue, I don't want to part my lips from his, this feels too good.

I feel the bed beneath my back and his weight above me. His hardness is pressing against my thigh and I shift so that its tip brushes, lightly, against my centre. I feel a jerk go through his whole body as he literally rips his mouth from mine. He's panting and I'm gasping for breath, as he rests his forehead against mine. His eyes, stormy with passion, look into mine, look into my soul it seems to me. I know that at this moment in time there's nothing I can hide from him, that there's no longer anything I truly want to hide from him.

"Alex." His voice is unbelievably hoarse with emotion. I close my eyes to hide from what I see in his eyes and hear in his voice. "Alex, don't, baby, please don't shut me out."

My eyes flutter open again, as if he's taken control of my body, which to some extent is true. I think I would do anything he asked of me right now.

He kisses me, very softly, first on my cheek, then down along my jaw, working his way along until he reaches my lips once more and reclaims them. Feather-light kisses, barely making contact, and then his lips are moving again. Not on to a different area of my face this time but to form words again, all the time with his lips against my own and his eyes looking directly into mine.

"I love you, Alex. I have loved you, I think, since that first day in Deakins' office. I don't want anyone but you and I intend to show you exactly how you should be treated by a man. You are the most amazing woman I've ever met and I can't believe I've been so lucky as to be blessed with having you in my life. I am going to make love with you, Alex, and when we're finished I want to hold you in my arms and watch you sleep and know that I never have to let you go again."

My fingers weave through the hair at the nape of his neck. Holding him in place as I kiss him into silence, greedily, feverishly almost. My lips drinking him in, my tongue sliding inside and massaging his before it moves on to reclaim every inch his mouth within its reach.

I can't give this up again, I can't, I need this, somehow he has become as essential as breathing, as necessary as eating. I wonder if this is how it feels to be truly addicted to something. I have been known to say I'm addicted to coffee but I swear I could give up caffeine instantly compared to trying to go without the taste of him again for more than a few hours, at the moment I'm not sure I could even last a few seconds without him. I have to try though, just for a few seconds to free myself of this madness, this overwhelming need to taste him, because there's something I desperately need to say. I slowly withdraw myself from his mouth, another small whimpering sound escaping me as I finally move my lips from his.

"Bobby, I'm so sorry …" A look of confusion and fear instantly fills his eyes, as he pulls back slightly. I tighten my grip around his waist and neck. "… I'm sorry that I put you through this … these past months … I never should have done that. I love you, more than I've ever loved any man. I need you and I want you and I didn't know how to deal with that and still work beside you. I know now …"

Was there something else I was going to say, I can't seem to remember because he's kissing me again and I've lost my capacity for speech. His lips are demanding that I give myself to him totally and I'm not about to argue. My body seems to be ahead of my mind, arching up against his, breasts pushing into his chest and centre rubbing gently against his member. This is too much, I can feel myself pulsing with need, the need to have him inside me but he's making no move to thrust into me. In fact, he's letting go of my mouth and sliding down my body, kissing and caressing as he goes.

I can vaguely make out what he's mumbling as his mouth devours inch after gloriously tortured inch of my skin. He keeps repeating my name, telling me I taste good, that I'm beautiful, that he wants me, needs me, loves me and always will. There's the occasional 'Oh God', 'Jesus', even a 'fuck' or two thrown in amongst the pet-names which seem to be too many to count. Sometimes he slips into a foreign language. I'm sure his mind is going into overload, but mine is already there. How he can manage to form any sort of even semi-coherent speech is beyond me, simply because I can't. I'm lying here moaning with pleasure, unable to do anything beyond stroke at his shoulders and head as he moves downwards. I cry his name as he engulfs one taut breast with his mouth, his hand cupping and fondling the other. His tongue tormenting one nipple whilst his thumb tortures the other, feels amazing. When he switches sides I thrust up against his stomach and he bites down, gently, just enough pressure to draw a long, low moan from somewhere deep within me.

I'm riding the very edge of what I know is going to be an unbelievable orgasm. I can feel the heat coiling in my belly and my muscles quiver beneath his lips as he continues to work his way down my body.

"Oh God, yes." Rips from me as a scream, as his lips brush with unbelievable gentleness against my outer folds.

He holds my hips down with those wonderfully powerful hands of his as he opens me with his tongue. The sensations as his lips and tongue caress me are indescribable. Then I'm screaming his name and I love for him and an entreaty not to stop; crying out as my limbs and body go unbelievably taut and then seem to scatter to the four winds, as he shatters me into a million pieces.

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A/N: Laptops getting pretty warm now – better go and get to work on Bobby's POV quickly. :o)


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: Warning: I already warned you, didn't I - explicit content in this chapter as well – and definitely the next two after this – don't say I didn't warn you :o)

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Bobby's POV

As I lead Alex down the hall and back to my bedroom I wonder if this time she will shut me out again afterwards. I'm not sure I could stand it if she did, but I know I can't stand to go another minute without making love to her. I'll just have to take the risk. This woman, this astounding, brilliant, amazingly beautiful, unbelievably sensual creature has asked me to make love to her and I cannot refuse her request.

I kiss her as soon as we make it through the door and I close it behind us. I'd almost manage to suppress the need to feel her lips against mine, to taste her and explore her mouth with my tongue. Somehow I have managed to go without this for two months, I know I won't be able to exert that kind of control again. If she can't accept my love for her after today, after she's opened to me so fully and had me open to her in return, I know there will be no option but to request a transfer. I won't be able to work beside this woman, to see her every day and not be able to hold her like this at night. My need for her is a tangible thing to me now, a hunger only she can satisfy, a thirst only her lips can quench. To be near her and not be able to have her would be too much of a torture, even for me.

The feel of her deceptively delicate yet strong fingers against my stomach causes my muscles to quake in the path of her touch. I can't stop the low, animalistic growl that rips through my chest in response, anymore than I can stop myself from pulling her clothes off of her. I'm no longer fully in control of my actions, my need to feel and taste her overriding that part of me that's trying to remind me of the emotional trauma we've raked up in the past twelve hours or so.

When I hear her whimper, for a second I slow down, thinking I've scared her. Then the sound escapes her again as she starts to drag the clothes from my body and I realise it's not a sound of fear but of begging. I have, somehow, managed to induce my lover to such a state of arousal that she has already reached a level of inarticulate desperation. I continue removing her clothes, as she continues to remove mine, both of us kissing and caressing exposed flesh. I can feel her muscles quaking beneath her skin, shivering against my lips and I know she can feel the same response from my own body as she moves her hands and mouth over me.

As I push the jeans and panties from her hips I lift her up in my arms, needing to taste her mouth again. Am I a fool for allowing this before we've actually spoken about where this relationship is going to go? If I am at least, at this moment, I'm a happy fool. I part her lips with my own and she opens willingly, allowing my tongue to glide into her mouth. After the first touch, she takes control of this kiss. My god, the way my Alex is sucking at my tongue, caressing it with hers, has my erection twitching as if she were actually working her mouth along it. I'm groaning and she's whimpering and there's not a damn thing wrong with that, this is beyond anything I remember from that night when we first made love and anything I've imagined since.

I'm starting to feel dizzy now, not only from lack of oxygen but from the intensity of the arousal this tiny snippet of a female is causing to leak out of every pore of my body. Before I collapse I manage to make it to the bed, placing her down gently and lying myself above her, never breaking this mind-blowing kiss. Then she shifts, just a little, beneath me and suddenly I can feel her heat, moist and ready for me, right against the head of my penis. My body jerks, as I fight the impulse to simply sink into her, and I have to breathe. I pull away from her mouth, more sharply than I would like to, as I pant for breath and exert some control over my response to her.

I rest my forehead lightly against hers, as she lies gasping beneath me. Her eyes are so dark with passion that I doubt I would recognise them, were I not looking down directly into them. I see her need and love for me, her acceptance of what is between us and I can't resist saying her name.

"Alex." I sound as if I could cry, to be honest I'm not sure that I'm not about to. When her eyelids flutter closed over her beautiful eyes, I very nearly do cry.

"Alex, don't, baby, please don't shut me out." I softly beseech this woman, who I am now certain is the centre of the entire universe, or at least my entire universe.

I am unimaginably grateful when her eyes open and she looks up at me once more, showing me unquestionably her trust and acceptance, the depth of her desire shines from her eyes along with her love and I am finally able to somehow regain enough control of myself to slow down and treat her as she deserves to be treated.

My lips linger on her cheek, unbelievably smooth. Down to her strong jaw; soft, gentle kisses, which I hope convey to her how much she means to me. Then back to the irresistible lure of her lips; those wonderful, sensuous, delicious lips. I control myself, keeping the contact light, teasing tastes of what I long to plunder. I can't draw myself away from her lips, yet I must tell her what she means to me.

"I love you, Alex. I have loved you, I think, since that first day in Deakins' office. I don't want anyone but you and I intend to show you exactly how you should be treated by a man. You are the most amazing woman I've ever met and I can't believe I've been so lucky as to be blessed with having you in my life. I am going to make love with you, Alex, and when we're finished I want to hold you in my arms and watch you sleep and know that I never have to let you go again."

I can't believe I managed to string so many words together coherently, given the lack of blood to my brain. I've never been this aroused, not even that first night we were together. I swear I've never been this hard in my life. I feel as if my whole body could explode just at a touch of her hand in the right place. Sweet Jesus, Alex Eames, what have you done to me!

Then I feel her small, impossibly cool hand against the back of my neck and her mouth is on mine. Why, exactly, was I trying to control myself, again? The feel of her tongue taking possession of my entire mouth, the way she's sucking at my tongue, her lips hungrily feasting on mine is possibly the most erotic sensation I've ever known. I was wrong, I can get harder. This is insane, but it's an insanity I can happily live the rest of my life with.

She's softening the kiss now. '_Don't, Alex, don't stop._' If I weren't so busy kissing her I'd actually say the words. I want this to go on forever, who needs oxygen anyway? A small whimper of protest, as though her body is being overruled by her brain, escapes her wonderful lips as they separate from mine and then she speaks.

"Bobby, I'm so sorry …"

I start to pull away, fear slashing through my gut and confusion addling what's left of my brain. She wants me to stop, I don't want to but I can stop. I'm not sure how, but I can find a way. I will not hurt this woman, I love her too much to ever hurt her. Then the hand on my neck draws me back down, her arm around my waist tightens, not allowing me to escape the temptation of her body.

"… I'm sorry that I put you through this … these past months … I never should have done that. I love you, more than I've ever loved any man. I need you and I want you and I didn't know how to deal with that and still work beside you. I know now …"

'_No, Alex, no. There is nothing you should apologise for. Not so long as you mean everything else you said. Not so long as you love me._'

I can't get the words out because I have to kiss her. I have to have this woman. I need to taste every inch of her. Her body seems to hear my own body's silent plea, as she arches into me. Her moist heat is brushing against my hardened flesh, relieving just a tiny amount of the need I have for the friction of her body. Her breasts, hard tipped with need, press firmly into the muscles of my chest, seemingly begging for my attention.

How could I have been so remiss in my duties to her pleasure? I've been so seduced by the taste of her mouth that I've been neglecting the rest of her. I shift my weight, rather than resting on both arms, I free my left arm, allowing my hand to start a slow, almost languorous, exploration of her skin. Caressing gently, seeking and finding those points on her body that I remember only too well from our previous encounter. I lazily work my way from her lips, down her neck, across her collarbone and back. Her skin is luscious beneath my tongue and lips. I become aware that I'm speaking as I move from one small section of flesh to the next.

I can't seem to stop her name from falling from my lips every time they leave her skin, as often as not followed by some diminutive that under normal circumstances would earn me a meeting with Eames' right hook. My words are a benediction to her, pouring out my need, want, love for her, hers forever should she want it; her beauty, physical and spiritual; the wonder I feel at her allowing this, at her letting such as me taste her like this, that she would permit me to touch her in this way. I'm barely conscious of what words I choose, or rather don't choose to speak, they simply tumble from my lips, I'm not ever sure I'm speaking solely in English. Was that Spanish just then? That was German! Alex doesn't even speak German! I can't seem to stop the words that fall from my mouth, any more than I can halt the progress of my hand and mouth against her skin.

Oh god, her breast feels and tastes wonderful as I latch my mouth around it, I can't help but try to suck her entire breast into my mouth, my tongue unable to resist swiping across the taut peak of her nipple. She actually cries my name, loud and long, as I attempt to devour her flesh. My hand imitates my mouth, engulfing her other breast, my thumb stroking in time with the sweeping of my tongue. Does the other one taste this good as well? Oh, lord, yes it does. I lean on my left arm now, giving my right hand freedom to caress the breast my mouth has just relinquished. She definitely seems to approve of my actions. I feel her heat against my stomach as her pelvis thrusts upwards in response to my ministrations.

That's not nice, Alex, trying to distract me. I tighten my lips more firmly around her breast, slide my tongue back behind my teeth and very gently bring my teeth into contact with her flesh, not hard enough to mark her, encircling her nipple I press firmly. A low moan slowly rises from within her, I feel it vibrate through her chest before it escapes from between her slightly parted lips. I know it isn't a moan of pain, I swore to myself I would not hurt her and I haven't; that was pure, unadulterated arousal. She's getting so close to her orgasm now that I can almost taste it on her skin.

I can certainly smell her excitement, not only where it emanates most strongly, between her strong, silky thighs, but all over her. Just as I can feel my own arousal seeping from every pore on my body, I can smell it seeping from hers. The faint quiver of her muscles, especially when I reach the flat plane of her stomach is simply confirmation of what I already know. My lover needs me to complete my task and it will be my great pleasure to do so.

I finally slide down so that my shoulders are between her luscious thighs, sliding her legs down my back so as not to overstretch her muscles, which I kiss gently, savouring the taste of her juices which have already flowed down her skin. I breathe in her scent, just as I remember it yet like nothing else in the world; sweet, intoxicating and undeniably erotic. I know from experience that Alex moves when she comes, so I lay both my hands gently across her hips, as I place a first, soft kiss against those other lips that I have not tasted up until now.

"Oh God, yes." So loud a noise from so small a body. So much passion held within what seems such a slight vessel. I do love to make Alex scream. Let's see if I can do better this time.

I put a little more pressure against her hips, knowing from the way she bucked at my first, almost timid contact, that she is on the very brink of her orgasm. I need to have some small amount of control over her body, to enable me to draw out my pleasuring of her for as long as possible.

The taste of her on my tongue almost undoes my resolve, I thought she couldn't possibly taste better than she smelt. Even I can be wrong sometimes it seems. Alex's nectar is like her; strong, sweet, subtle and undeniably sexy; an unidentifiable blend and combination without which my life will never again be complete. I simply cannot possibly get enough of her, my lips tug at her folds, my tongue laps at her. It's impossible to decide what is better; the sensation of running my tongue along her folds, then teasingly over her clitoris and feeling her body's attempts to buck beneath the weight of my hands on her hips, or simply delving into her depths, sweeping around her walls, tormenting pleasure points and sampling her juices at the same time. My tongue is deep within her, my teeth pressing gently against her clit, when she screams.

"Bobby … love … you … don't … stop … Bobby."

Every inch of her body seems to tense for a second; her limbs tight and stiff, her back arched taut, bowed off the bed; before her muscles begin to relax again. I don't stop, I can't, not yet. I have to taste every last drop of her. My tongue sweeps around the inside of her, as her internal muscles unclamp, pulsating around it. As her body finally goes lax with satisfaction, I hear faint begging whimpers again, from somewhere seemingly far away. I raise my head and find myself looking into my lover's very hungry eyes. She wants more. I don't even think of resisting the temptation she so willingly places in front of me.

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A/N: *cough …cough* – hope you enjoyed that – excuse me whilst I go grab a shower – *cough …cough* – and let my laptop cool down – the smoke's getting a bit thick in here – *cough …cough* ;o)


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